


Hold On to Me

by bucketbarneslove



Series: Through Thick and Thin [2]
Category: Captain America: Winter Soldier, Marvel Cinematic Universe, captain america: civil war - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Sequel, honey do they got a big storm coming for them, oh boy, the author is not sure if she's actually ready for this but it's happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-22 17:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8294224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucketbarneslove/pseuds/bucketbarneslove
Summary: The nightmares about her were practically the worst ones, and most nights he couldn't separate the scenes that played out between memories and cruel pictures his mind had created for him. Standing over Sasha, smacking her, strangling her, aiming a gun to her head, dragging knives across her flesh, it was all so... well. It was hard to be open about his feelings with his wife when what caused his fear were visions of her death by his own hand. And with the upcoming court case... she would only be able to handle so much.





	1. Talk Me Down

The moonlight was dimly shining through the window, just enough so that Sasha had enough vision to make out the outlines of certain objects in her bedroom. She could see the large dresser pressed up against the far wall, brass knobs winking in the silver gloom. Then there was the knob to her closet door, and after that, coming just a few feet from where she was herself, was the footboard of her bed. The sheets and comforter which had been preserving Sasha's warmth not too long ago were now bunched into a thick pile just shy of touching the railing.

And then, next to her and taking annoying amounts of care not to make any physical contact, was her husband of five years.

This was the... well, it wasn't very clear how many times this particular event had happened, but it occurred much too often to do anything for Sasha's happiness. And it wasn't that she blamed Bucky, or even herself, but for some reason there were just nights when... when...

"I'm sorry," Bucky sighed, letting his head fall back against the headboard. Sasha wanted to hold his hand, wanted to lean her head against his chest, kiss him, _something_ , but right now... right now, he wasn't hers to comfort. Right now, he wasn't even his _own_ , he was... he was somewhere else.

Sasha sighed herself, and brought a hand up to rub at her eyes. "About what?" she murmured, doing her best to stifle the yawn threatening to escape her mouth. Glancing over at the bedside clock, she let her eyes adjust enough to read the glowing red numbers: 2:30am. Thank god she didn't have work in the morning.

"You know what," Bucky muttered, seeming to withdraw even more within to himself. That wasn't quite what Sasha had wanted to come of this. If she was going to get Bucky back to sleep any time soon, she was going to need to get him calm, and in a less self deprecating frame of mind. "I... I don't understand what my issue is, and this has been happening so much lately that it's affecting you too. It's been five years. It should be out of my head now."

She sighed, and rolled on to her side so she could face Bucky. In the dim lighting she could just see the contours of his face, and noticed the glint of his blue eyes in the dark. Watching her. It seemed that he did that a lot lately, when he was attempting to recover from a particularly bad stint. Sasha supposed she didn't mind, especially not if it gave him peace of mind. God knew her poor husband needed it.

"Well," Sasha let out slowly, "was it about me?"

Almost as though he were taken off guard, Bucky squinted his eyes and thought. "What?" he eventually questioned.

"Was it about me this time? The first few were, right?"

Bucky understood after that. "Not this time, no. It wasn't... you didn't know me. Not in this one, anyway."

"So then it makes sense."

A confused pause, and then, "How do you mean?"

Very carefully reaching her fingers forward to let their tips just gently brush along Bucky's flesh arm, Sasha replied, "It makes sense that the nightmares would still be here, then. It's been five years since everything with the two of us happened, and so you know, you might have gotten that out of your system already, but Buck... you've got about seventy five years worth of post traumatic stress that you haven't been letting yourself feel. This legal stuff probably isn't helping. It's not unexpected."

Bucky snorted, and hesitantly pushed his body closer to Sasha's. That was good; he was becoming himself again. If she waited a few more minutes, he might even let her nestle against his chest and press a kiss or two to his neck. "You shouldn't have to expect me screaming in the middle of the night and trying to strangle you because I think you're out to get me. And Marcie... Marcie shouldn't have to hear it."

At the mention of Marcelline, Sasha paused. Bucky's thoughts were valid, she supposed, because the first night his nightmares had begun, Marcelline had run into the room crying, but it hadn't happened since that night. Whether it was because Marcelline understood that it was going to be somewhat of a recurring cycle or because Bucky had somehow managed to contain himself and his volume during his episodes, it wasn't clear. It didn't matter. What mattered at this moment was getting Bucky back to a place calm enough for him to fall asleep.

"I knew I was marrying you," Sasha murmured, daring to crane her neck to place a kiss on Bucky's jawline. "I knew you were a soldier, I knew how bad the shit Hydra put you through was. And I mean, sometimes I have nightmares too, but that's not the point. I knew your memories would come for you eventually, and it's okay. I'll still be here. You're my husband and you need me, so I'll still be here."

Gingerly, Bucky shifted to wrap his arm around Sasha and hold her closer to his body. She knew he was only humoring her, that what he really wanted was to separate himself from Sasha so that he could remain secure in the fact that he wouldn't hurt her, but she didn't much mind. Sasha wished there was some way she could take the doubt from him, some way for her to help him see that she felt safest in his arms, but that wasn't likely to happen, and Bucky would feel however he chose to feel. Her husband was particularly stubborn in that way. And so instead, Sasha waited and felt as he somewhat hesitantly placed a gentle kiss against her temple. "Work tomorrow?"

"No," she mumbled, her eyes fluttering with sleepiness, "not tomorrow. Although I did tell Marcie we might be able to visit the tower after school." When she wasn't met with a response, Sasha asked, "Buck?"

"Mm?"

"Are you still upset with yourself?" Honestly, she already knew the answer. But... well, she didn't have to be up at any sort of decent hour, and if she could offer Bucky help...

"Slightly," Bucky mumbled, which was as close to a confession as they were probably going to get. "I know you don't want me to be, and I'm trying for you, but-"

"Want me to help you get your mind off it?" Because, if she couldn't take the negative thoughts and emotions out of her husband's mind, she could at least utilize the fact that she knew how to make him feel good in the physical sense.

"Um. What did you have in mind, exactly?"

She'd caught him off guard. She could tell because while Bucky was normally always so calm and collected, so at ease with their sex life and normally the one to catch Sasha's breath, right now he was looking for a method of escaping his own mind. And the most effective way of accomplishing that sort of thing, at least right now, was with euphoria. Pleasure. Physical distraction. All things that she, as his wife, knew how to give him.

"Whatever you want," Sasha murmured, blinking the last of the sleep from her eyes and rolling over to press her lips hard against her husband's. Almost immediately there was a response from Bucky, his body instinctually following the motions of how they got started. His arms snaked up and down her body, hands urging her hips closer to his, and Sasha's lips pressing against Bucky's until she couldn't breathe, then letting them trail from his mouth, across his jawline, and up to ghost against his ear. "Tell me what's gonna get you out of that head of yours, James."

As soon as she used his first name, it was pretty much a done deal. Ever since their honeymoon, calling him James just... it was something of a catalyst, really.

"I think I feel better already," Bucky chuckled, rising up to press his lips against Sasha's again.

And while Sasha knew it was only temporary, she was glad to be able to offer Bucky some sort of comfort.

\--

"Somebody had a good night last night," Wanda mused, fingers still gently dancing through Bucky's hair. If Bucky were more like his wife, he'd have blushed. Instead, he merely snapped his eyes open in surprise, only to find Wanda's irises still glowing red. The first couple times they'd gone through their little therapy sessions, the red eyes had sort of freaked him out, though he wasn't quite willing to admit it. Since then, he'd learned to become accustomed to the unnatural color.

"You've gotta stop doing that," Bucky sighed, doing his best to remain still as Wanda went about her business. "Sasha's going to think you and I are gossip buddies."

"Are you saying we're not?" Wanda questioned, smiling and readjusting her crossed legs as her eyes continued to stare into nothing. Or, rather, as she continued to stare into the visions which projected Bucky's most intimate feelings. They'd been at this for some time now, Wanda trying to find not only the source of Bucky's nightmares, but also the place in his mind where he kept those god damned trigger words of his. Once she found them, she'd be able to alleviate them, and Bucky would no longer need to worry after his wife, his daughter, his sisters, or anyone else. And honestly, if they got rid of all that stuff, they'd more than likely be able to win his impending government court case. "I think I'm kind of hurt, Barnes."

Rolling his eyes, Bucky couldn't help but laugh. He didn't know if it was because Wanda was inside his head so often or for some other reason, but he found that he liked talking and joking with her. She was easy to get along with, and ridiculously compassionate.

And, truth be told, when her eyes weren't glowing red... she looked eerily similar to Sophia.

"No offense," Wanda began, "but this would be a lot easier if you weren't such a good husband. I keep seeing you and Sasha..."

Actually snorting, Bucky quirked an eyebrow. Oh, god, no way. "Are you saying that the only thing you see when you try to tap into my thoughts is me and my wife having sex?"

"Well it's not _all_ I see, but you two sure seem to be having quite a lot of it." Finally taking her hands from Bucky's head, Wanda leaned back a bit, making herself more comfortable where she sat cross legged in front of Bucky. "It's not just the sex, it's the fact that you're completely in love with Sasha. All I can see when I look at your mind is her because she's plastered everywhere, and honestly, so is Marcelline. It's like... look at it this way. Your mind is like a nesting doll."

"Russian metaphors," Bucky chuckled, shaking his head to himself. "Nice."

Whacking him on the shoulder, Wanda couldn't help but laugh. "Right, so Marcelline and Sasha are the very biggest one. They're what you wanted at the forefront of your mind, so they're the outer doll. You love them, and there's a lot of them in there. Your sisters are the second shell. Not because you love them less, but because you thought they were dead for a pretty long time. And so there are more and more layers, and what I'm thinking is the innermost layer is..."

"The bad shit," Bucky finished.

"Right. The bad shit. Your conscience is doing its damnedest to suppress the negatives of what you've faced in your lifetime, but your subconscious isn't quite happy with that, and so that's the reason for your post traumatic stress."

It made sense. Like, a lot more than Bucky wanted to acknowledge, mostly because he was in denial of the fact that he was suppressing his experiences, but... well, Wanda's magic didn't lie. And Bucky didn't much like admitting the truth to himself, but if it could help his family get back to a more secure foundation, then what he liked didn't much matter. This problem needed a resolution; his trial wouldn't wait for his family to become stable.

"Okay," Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd kept it short these past few years, similar to how it had been in the thirties but just slightly longer to keep with modern trends. Sasha preferred it that way, he found. "So how do we open the doll then? What are we supposed to do?"

Wanda bit at her bottom lip in thought, and Bucky was left to think about how much time and effort and energy she was truly putting into his... therapy, so to speak. Not only that, but Wanda had remained one of Sasha's closest friends over the last five years, helping to make up for what the poor girl had lost the day she'd had to shoot Dominika Kazakova. Wanda just always seemed to be there, for _both_ of them, and so Bucky had grown fond of her. He liked what she did, for his wife and his family. And yes, she still looked like Sophie, but Bucky found that he didn't much mind that. In a weird, sort of confusing kind of way, the resemblance was comforting.

"Well," Wanda began, tugging at a stray lock of her hair, "I mean... it's post traumatic stress. I'm not entirely sure what the process is, but they do have counselors for that sort of thing, don't they? Isn't Sam one?"

At that, Bucky full out laughed. "You want me to talk to Sam about my feelings? I somehow don't think that's going to happen. What with the amount of crap he's gonna give me, and all."  
Wanda simply rolled her eyes. Bucky's relationship with Sam was actually a very close friendship, one that Bucky was happy to keep, but the teasing and playful bickering they kept up with each other didn't seem quite on par with PTSD counseling. "Right, okay. You could try talking to Sasha, then? She's your wife, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind listening to you talk about your feelings."

"She doesn't need to be burdened with all of that," Bucky replied simply, waving the idea away with his hand. Actually, he'd felt a pit form in his stomach at the very suggestion. Sasha was always insisting that Bucky be open with her, that he tell her how he felt and that he let her help him, and to be fair he was the exact same way, but part of what plagued him was unique to her. The nightmares about her were practically the worst ones, and most nights he couldn't separate the scenes that played out between memories and cruel pictures his mind had created for him. Standing over Sasha, smacking her, strangling her, aiming a gun to her head, dragging knives across her flesh, it was all so... well. It was hard to be open about his feelings with his wife when what caused his fear were visions of her death by his own hand. "Besides, she's got her own stuff to deal with."

Raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, Wanda questioned, "Such as?"

He couldn't actually provide an answer. Sasha often told Bucky that nothing was more important to her than helping him where she could with his emotional situation, but it was hard to let her. As her husband, Bucky wanted nothing more than to already be emotionally stable enough for her. But, being who he was, with the seventy five years of lost time, the brainwashed sister, and the fact that he was about to drag his family through what looked to be the biggest government trial in the history of the United States, Bucky was starting to become sure that he'd need Sasha more than she'd need him. He wasn't quite willing to admit that yet, but he was sure he'd stop being stubborn eventually. Or, he hoped he would.

"There's too much in your head," Wanda tried again, twisting her arm in the air so that her elbow would pop. "The sooner you get some of it cleared, the sooner I can find those trigger words and take care of them for you. But you've gotta talk to someone. If not Sasha or Sam, then Steve, or even one of your sisters. Can't hurt to know someone who's been through what you have."

"None of them were forced to set up the execution of their significant other," Bucky muttered.

"Beggars can't be choosers." Standing, Wanda placed her hands on her hips. "Come on, let's go and find some of the others. You could use some positive company."

Just to be a smart ass, Bucky asked, "Are you saying you aren't positive company?"

Wanda rolled her eyes. "I'm saying your daughter is the fastest way to make anyone with a soul smile."

"That's fair." Standing, then helping Wanda to her own feet, Bucky gave one last inconspicuous gaze to the girl who looked so much like his little sister, with her blue eyes and dark, wavy hair, and waited for her to lead the way from the empty room they'd procured for themselves. They'd need to figure out this nesting doll thing, and fast. God only knew how long Bucky could keep a handle on his nightmares, and he hadn't hit Sasha in his sleep since the one night five years ago, but if he kept on the path he was... well. He wasn't willing to put his family through that. Especially not with his impending trial, which would come up whenever the government decided it was time to drag his ass to court.

Bucky only hoped they at least had the decency to give him warning, instead of barging into his home to take him from his daughter and wife.

\--

"Uncle Steeeeeve! Stop it! Uncle Steeeeeve!"

Unable to help himself, and goaded on by the giggles beneath the request for him to stop, Steve let his fingers dance across Marcelline's stomach, tickling the breath out of her. At the moment, he couldn't remember exactly what had pushed him into the tickle punishment; something silly Marcie had said, most likely, probably a comment about Steve being a 'goof' or something of that nature. Regardless, he was pretty sure tickling for name calling was pretty fair.

Suddenly, somewhere far behind them, they heard a telltale 'ding' as an elevator door opened, putting a stop to the silly little fight of sorts. Marcie looked up at Steve, and Steve looked at Marcie before letting his head turn over his shoulder. All he saw was the vast expanse of the communal living room everyone residing in the tower shared with one another, and a little farther away he saw the entrance to the room, the one which would lead to a short hallway, which in turn would lead to the elevator doors.

"Did'ya here that?" Marcie whispered, blue eyes wide as saucers. So much like Bucky's, her eyes were, but her face and skin tone belonged to her mother. Marcie looked so much like Sasha with a few of Bucky's traits scattered in here and there that no one could ever question who her parents were.

"I did," Steve whispered back, grinning. "I bet it's one of your parents. Wanna surprise 'em?"

Like he'd guessed she would, Marcie grinned, giggled, and nodded, and Steve wasted no time in scooping her up before padding lightly over to the side of the entrance to the living area. After a moment he set Marcie down, trusting that she would know how to properly surprise someone in a group effort. They stood there, both bent forward a bit in anticipation, and did their best to be silent as they listened to the approaching footsteps. Not two seconds later, a foot appeared in the entranceway, and Steve and Marcie both made loud, perhaps slightly aggressive noises in an attempt to startle whoever it was that entered the room.

Now, Steve had been expecting Bucky, or perhaps even Sasha. What he _hadn't_ accounted for was the fact that they perhaps were not the only two visiting the tower at the time, and that there had been a third, and even a fourth option that he could have taken into consideration. As a consequence, all Steve saw was a whip of thick, black hair and a flash of pale skin before his back slammed against the wall, a firm hand securing his throat and ensuring that he had no means of escape.

Marcie, completely unphased, simply giggled in delight. God only knew how much sparring she'd seen over the five years she'd been in existence. "Aunt Rosie!" she squealed, rushing forth to latch onto Rosemarie's leg. Her bouncing curls barely reached the top of Rosie's mid thigh, and Steve wasn't sure if it was because Marcie was, unfortunately, already displaying her mother's height gene, or simply because Rosemarie was above average height. "I didn't know you were here!"

An amused smile etched its way onto Rosie's mouth, and she offered a soft, fond look down to her niece before fixing her eyes back on Steve'a face. "I thought I'd surprise you," she murmured, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Looks like Uncle Steve had the same idea?"

"In my defense, I thought you were your brother."

"Because _that's_ what every girl wants to hear," Rosie muttered, absently sending a hand down to pat Marcelline's head. Internally, Steve flinched. When Rosie and Jasmine had returned to live next to normal lives along with the rest of them, things between Steve and Rosie had taken on... something of a softer nature. At least, on Steve's end they had. He wasn't sure how long it had taken for him to realize that, how long he'd gone before understanding that somewhere along the line he'd begun to think of Rosie as... well, more than one of Bucky's lost little sisters, but Rosemarie's responses to any one of Steve's advancements had been less than encouraging. He was still trying to figure that out, because as vain as it sounded, there'd been times when he'd thought Rosemarie for sure reciprocated. With comments like the one she'd just made, Steve couldn't help but think that her lack of returned feelings was his fault. "Where is James, anyway? And Sasha?"

"Mommy had to take a phone call," Marcie answered, faster than Steve could blink. "One of her dancers had a 'mergency. And Daddy is-"

"Here to see his favorite baby girl," a happy voice chimed in from the entrance of the room.

Immediately, Marcelline detached herself from Rosie's leg and rushed over, arms extended, to meet Bucky, who in turn didn't hesitate to scoop his daughter into his arms and lift her off the floor. "Daddy!" she squealed, throwing her arms around Bucky's neck and pressing a hard, poorly executed kiss to his cheek. "You're done already?"

"Well, Aunt Wanda decided we could be done for today," Bucky explained, offering Marcie a kiss on the forehead. He motioned with his head to Wanda, who stood just behind Bucky in the doorway. "Wasn't that nice of her? Great to see you, Rosie, by the way."

"Jamie," Rosie greeted him, offering a fond smile. "Wanda, how have you been?"

"Been fine," the brunette responded, inclining her head in greeting.

"Did'ya help daddy again, Aunt Wanda?" Marcie questioned, leaning forward to stare at Wanda over Bucky's shoulder. That was a habit of hers, Steve had noticed; Marcie really liked looking people in the eyes when talking to them. It would probably be unsettling if the round childishness of her face didn't make it so charming. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I did," Wanda answered, taking a step forward and brushing a finger along Marcie's cheek, "and I think your daddy's gonna be just fine. I'll even let you tell your mommy the good news if you want."

Marcie squeezed her arms, offering Bucky another hug. "That's good," Marcie sighed, letting her head fall against Bucky's shoulder for just a moment before pulling back to look at her dad's face. "I think we should go tell Mommy so we can make her smile. She got a call from one of her dancers."

"Well, that's _never_ good," Bucky mumbled, shifting Marcie over to his left side. And didn't they all know it. The only times Sasha's dancers called her outside of their rehearsal days were to either report issues with another dancer, or to tell her that they'd acquired some kind of dance hindering injury. Either way it went, Steve had witnessed Sasha's frantic episodes after ending a call from a dancer. "Okay. Steve? You know where Sasha might be?"

Steve took a moment to think, not able to come up with more than what was typical. "Either she's in your old room for privacy so that no one hears her yelling, or she's ranting to Clint about whatever her dancer's problem is now."

"Um, James," Rosie interjected, just as Bucky had begun to head for the path to the elevator with Marcie. Steve blinked, almost having forgotten that Rosie was in the room with how still and quiet she'd become. That was something she'd always been good at, ever since she was small. Her time with Hydra had helped her to perfect that skill; weaponize it, even. Steve couldn't be sure how exactly that knowledge made him feel. "I need you. Jazz and I, we... we came to talk to you and Sasha." Jasmine was in the tower too? Of course. It should have been a no brainer, Steve guessed. She and Rosie had hardly left each other's sides in the five years since they'd gained freedom, and rightly so. Steve didn't much think he'd want to be alone after all they'd seen, either.

Bucky made eye contact with his sister, and a meaningful look was exchanged between the two of them. Almost subconsciously, his arms tightened around Marcie, as though he were attempting to shield her from the negative thoughts running through his head. Steve didn't blame him. From the intensely meaningful look on Rosie's face, the topic of conversation would be no doubt unpleasant. "Okay. You two can come home with us for dinner, then. And we can talk about whatever... you want to talk about. But first," he sighed, using his right arm to pat Marcie on the back, "we go do some cheering up."


	2. Whatever Makes You Happy

"Okay, listen. Tell me this is some really elaborate prank you're playing on me. _Please_ tell me this is just your guys' idea of a stupid joke because you just really wanted to stress me out for fun. Because I _know_ you aren't stupid enough to risk your legs three weeks before opening night."

"Um... well I wish I could Mrs. Barnes, but-"

" _Melody_."

"I'm really sorry, okay? Like, _really_ sorry. But I super thought I could do the move right!" Which Sasha had _told_ Melody she couldn't. She'd been very clear: if the movement was done incorrectly, a bone would be broken, and so Melody was not to even _think_ about attempting it until the show was done and over with. Not that Melody had listened, of course. "Mrs. Barnes? Are you okay...? You just, uh, sound really calm?"

No. No, she wasn't okay, not that that _mattered_. It wasn't like her principal dancer had fractured her leg three weeks before their production's opening night. It wasn't like this was a serious crisis for practically everyone involved, Sasha most of all because casting Melody as the main role had been a reach on her part, one that she was now going to catch serious shit from all the other instructors who'd wanted to direct the show on because this was Sasha's first major job and any one of them felt they'd have done better.

Sasha didn't like swearing at her dancers, even if they were grown college students, but she was very close in that moment.

A broken leg. She had three weeks to figure her shit out because of a broken leg. Somehow this seemed to be just her luck.

Eventually, Sasha sighed. "It's... fine, Melody. I'm fine. I'm really very sorry about your leg. We'll talk more in class on Monday, alright?"

"Okay." Then, a little less hesitantly, as though Melody had been testing the waters and saw that she wasn't going to be yelled at, "You rock, Mrs. B. See you next week." And then she clicked the line off, almost as if she thought the longer she stayed on the more likely Sasha would be to start yelling.

Smart girl.

"This is a fucking train wreck," Sasha muttered, pressing a palm against her face. She hadn't even been able to cast an understudy; she hadn't had the time and had barely enough students to fill every role the ballet possessed, even with the fact that Sasha had reached out to local dance studios to supply younger girls and boys for the large dance numbers.

At this point, Sasha kind of wished she'd never heard of The Nutcracker in her life. The title kind of made her a little sick.

_A god damn broken leg._

She could figure it out, couldn't she? That was what she was being paid to do, after all. The show would have to go on, and she would need to find another dancer to play Clara, simple as that. It was just going to be so... Whatever. She would deal with it.

Sighing, Sasha wandered over to the large picture windows which were typical of the rooms in Stark Tower, and leaned her forehead against it, letting the coolness seep into her skin as she observed the bustling of afternoon New York life. It was relaxing, she thought, thinking of all those people down there. Shit, they probably had problems of their own, most of which had to be _much_ bigger than her dancer issue. All those people, going through their days, doing what they needed to get done? It made her feel like she could do it, too.

And then, just as she was really convincing herself that it would all turn out okay, her phone rang. Because the universe just _could not_ let her catch a break, apparently.

"Hello, this is Sasha Barnes," she answered, turning her back to the sight of the busy New York street in favor of leaning against the window. "May I ask who's calling?"

"Sasha, hi," an uncomfortably familiar voice spoke, "it's Matt." Instantaneously, ice began wrapping its way up her spine. A dancer with a broken leg? That she could handle. But, a phone call from her and her husband's lawyer? The last time Matt Murdock had directly contacted them, it had been because he thought the government might be ready to pursue Bucky. And if he were calling now, that could only mean he thought the same thing. There was a fifty-fifty chance he would be wrong, but still, it... it worried her every time. "Is this a bad time?"

Blinking a few times, trying to calm down, Sasha answered, "Matt, uh, hi. Not bad at all. What's, um, what's up?"

Their conversation lasted no longer than five minutes, and it had been pretty straightforward from the get go. Throughout the duration of it Sasha was finding that the icy feeling in her spine wouldn't go away, and a faint sense of nausea was beginning to creep on as well. Matt was a nice man, truly, and she enjoyed his sense of humor and couldn't have wished for a better lawyer to represent her husband in his inevitable court case, but the fact that his services were required in the first place made life just a bit harder. By nature, Sasha was a paranoid person; so every time she had to communicate with Matt, every time he gave her a surprise phone call? Those were the things which left her on edge.

"Okay," she sighed, sensing that Matt was only moments away from bidding farewell; if she was going to ask, now would be the time. "Can you give me some kind of estimate on time? Do we need to be immediately worried?"

"I don't _think_ so. My guess is that you still have a few more weeks, but not a lot. No more than three."

Oh god. Oh _god_.

"Thanks Matt," Sasha sighed, closing her eyes. "I'll let him know. Keep in touch, okay?"

"Of course. Goodbye."

"Shit," Sasha sighed to herself once the phone clicked off, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Shit, shit, _shit_." After all these years, after everything she and Bucky had been through and what Bucky had done for the government with the Avengers for the last _five_ years, they were still in jeopardy. Their happiness, their family, _everything_ they had. Sasha hadn't been naive enough to seriously believe Bucky would somehow be pardoned from his accusations, even though the crimes he was being charged with had been _completely_ out of his control, but she had entertained the thought once or twice.

And now she had to tell Bucky they were most likely going to detain him in a few weeks. _How_ was she going to tell him that? How was she supposed to explain that to Marcie?

"Fuck," Sasha sighed to herself half heartedly. Not that _that_ was going to do anything, but it was just the slightest bit cathartic.

"Moooooooommy? Are you in here?"  
At the sound of Marcelline's high pitched, happy voice, Sasha straightened up immediately, doing her best to wipe any trace of unhappiness or unease from her face and posture. Marcie still didn't quite understand the potential threat to their family; she knew that there were people who wanted to take her dad away from her, and she also knew there were kids in her class whose parents encouraged them to stay away from her because Bucky was her father, but she wasn't quite sure why.

"Hey, baby girl!" Sasha called, turning and walking towards the entrance of the spacious bedroom. Marcie had popped in from the door, twin braids fuzzy and her blue tulle skirt, two layers away from being a tutu, swinging around her as she moved. That was one of the many things about Marcie; she was constantly moving, and more often than not in an energetic fashion. "What are you doing all the way up here? I thought you were with Uncle Steve."

Surging forward to wrap her arms around Sasha's hips, Marcie squeezed her mother hard before answering. "I was, but Daddy finished with Aunt Wanda early and so he said we should look for you!" Seeming to only have just remembered this last part, Marcie turned to call over her shoulder, "Daddy! I found Mommy! She's in heeeeeeeere!"

There was the sound of footsteps, heavy and decisive, and just a moment later Bucky's face popped through the doorway. Sasha couldn't help the flutter in her chest, the flutter that always seemed to be there when she looked at her husband, no matter what she did. It was as if he'd barely aged over the past five years, and Sasha couldn't be sure whether it was thanks to the soldier serum or just that he had _damn_ good genetics. He'd kept his hair shorter and trendy over the years, and had remained as built as he'd been when she'd first met him, more than likely on account of the serum. With Sasha having gone back to school when Marcie had been born and immediately landing employment after graduation, Bucky had been the one to remain home for round the clock childcare, something which didn't allow for a lot of heroic kicking ass, and was also something he'd not minded very much.

Another thing which remained the same was that when Bucky looked at her, blue eyes sparkling and quickly roving her body in a mildly suggestive manner, a devil may care grin plastered onto his face, Sasha felt just as she had when she'd been a twenty year old girl.

"Good job, Marcie," Bucky chuckled, stepping into the room and leaving the door ajar behind him. He wasted no time in traveling the small distance to Sasha and Marcie, capturing one of Sasha's hands in his own and using it to pull her to him. Once she was close enough, he used his free hand to cup her cheek as he pressed his lips to hers, and Sasha felt herself grow lighter and lighter with each passing second. "Beautiful," Bucky greeted, coaxing a laugh out of Sasha, "how are you?"

"Better, now," Sasha mumbled, smiling and taking a moment to lean her head against Bucky's solid chest. "I'm a lot better now."

Never one to be forgotten, even for a moment, Marcie wriggled her way between her parents and tugged on her mother's shirt. "What did your dancer say, Mommy? Is she okay?"

"No, baby girl," Sasha sighed, offering a gentle smile to Marcelline despite the still sore subject which had just been brought back up. "My dancer's hurt pretty badly, so I'm gonna have to find a replacement for her."

At this, Marcie's eyes lit up, and she threw her hands into the air enthusiastically. "Me me me! I could do it! You could teach me, Momma!"

Laughing, Sasha gave Marcie's head a loving pat. "Oh, I'm sure you'd be great, baby, but it might help if we get you en pointe first."

"Oh, right," Marcie said, sounding not the least bit put out. "I forgot about that."

Withdrawing from Sasha completely, Bucky kneeled down so that he was eye level with their daughter. "Marcie, sweetheart, would you do daddy a favor and go and find Jazzy and Rosie and ask them what they'd like for dinner?"

This, not so surprisingly, provoked an excited gasp from Marcelline. "They're coming over?" she squealed, eyes bright and shining. Sasha saw Bucky's eyes when she looked at her daughter, bright and blue and full of wonder. She remembered praying for those eyes when she'd been pregnant, hoping against the slim chance in place that Marcelline would receive her father's eyes, and Sasha also remembered being filled to the brim with joy when her wish had come true.

"They are," Bucky confirmed, ruffling his daughter's curls. He hadn't needed to say anything after that; Marcie had merely hugged her father quickly and tightly before running off and calling her aunts' names excitedly. Once her voice could no longer be heard, Bucky stood back to his full height and absently began twirling a lock of Sasha's hair around his fingers. "I hope you don't mind. I probably should've talked to you beforehand."

She rolled her eyes, and placed a quick peck to her husband's lips. "Oh, please, I love your sisters. Only downside to having them come over is gonna be getting Marcie to bed at a decent hour."

"Well, it _is_ Friday," Bucky pointed out. "We could let her stay up a little later."

"Not a minute passed 9:30, and I'll even let you blame me for that one."

"You kidding me? A whole extra hour and a half? You might actually end up being her favorite parent for the night."  
Sasha laughed, and kissed Bucky less than timidly. She felt it as his hands travelled their way down her shoulders and sides, eventually settling on her hips.

"How'd it go with Wanda?" she asked after a few moments, pulling back only slightly from Bucky's mouth.

"My brain is a Molotov cocktail of emotion, apparently," he laughed, "and according to her the only things grounding me to reality are you and our daughter, but that isn't exactly news." Bucky pulled away further to get a better look at Sasha's face, and she wasn't sure what he found there, but it had prompted a small frown. "What about you, are you okay? You seem a little too upset for it to just be over losing a dancer."

Bucky always _had_ been good at reading her feelings. Ever since they'd met, he had read her like a book, and there'd been nothing she could do to prevent that, even if she'd wanted to.

Suddenly the phone call with Matt came rushing back into her head, the words momentarily all she could hear. _No more than three weeks_. She had to tell him, she knew she did, but Sasha so wished she could protect her husband the way he'd protected her over the years. It would need to be done; she would need to tell him.

... Just, not yet.

"You know, Buck, we can talk about that later. For now, I kinda just wanna... I don't know. Relax?"

Bucky pulled Sasha into another hug, tucking her head beneath his chin. His touch comforted her, really, and seemed to allow her to breathe a bit better than usual. She could get lost in the bliss he offered her just by being himself.

"Do you wanna have sex?"

A shocked cry escaped her lips before laughter did, and she pulled herself away from Bucky before swatting at his chest. "I can not _believe_ you!"

" _What?_ " he challenged, the look on his face saying he knew exactly what he was doing. Typical Bucky. "You said you wanted to relax! You are arguably at your most relaxed after we've slept together."

Despite herself, Sasha couldn't help the embarrassed little blush playing at her cheeks, something Bucky was bound to take as support for his case. "God, Bucky, this is Tony's tower! We can't have _sex_ here!"

"Oh, like that ever stopped us before," he shot back, lifting a hand to gently trail a finger along her collarbone. It had been left bare by the black v-neck sweater she'd dawned at the beginning of the day, and despite the fact that her top was meant to be warm, Bucky's touch still managed to send a shiver through her body. That, along with so many other things, had never changed as their relationship had gone on.

"Uh uh, mister, it's gonna start getting dark soon and from what I understand I'm cooking for five tonight, so there is no time for any of that." Really, it felt like she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince Bucky.

"I'll be fast?" At the withering look Sasha shot his way, Bucky laughed heartily and smiled wider at his wife. "Okay, so that's a no. Make out? That makes you happy too."

Sasha rolled her eyes, but pushed forward to steal a kiss. She let her hands find their way up, her fingers lacing through Bucky's thick hair, and didn't resist as Bucky reciprocated, tongue teasing at her mouth and breath mingling with her own. It made her feel giddy, and light; as though she were still a teenager. If she wasn't careful, she would end up losing her resolve and melting into him, into his original suggestion. There wasn't time for that, though, not right now. The two of them would just need to wait.

He'd pulled her closer to him, pressing against her body, and she let the kissing go on for a few seconds more before withdrawing from him completely. "That's all for now, big guy. We have... guests, that we're gonna have to take care of.

"Later," Bucky murmured, darting forward to place one last kiss on Sasha's lips. "We'll pick it back up later. Let's go find our girls, yeah?"

Nodding, Sasha slipped her hand into Bucky's and began tugging him towards the door of the room. "I love you, you know."

She heard Bucky chuckle behind her. "I know. I love you too."

\--

Jasmine kind of envied her brother. Well, more than kind of, and for what she thought was good reason. His wife was beautiful, as was his daughter, and his home was as nice as any of the Barnes siblings could have dreamed of possessing when they'd all been children. They hadn't gone back to Brooklyn; apparently the city had held too many memories, regardless of whether they'd been positive or negative, and so Sasha and Bucky had opted for a two story home upstate in Poughkeepsie, with plenty of extra space for whichever stray friend or family member needed it at the time. The house was nice, big and white with a fence in the front yard and an almost annoyingly cute amount of windows. If Jasmine remembered correctly, it was a five bedroom home and surely cost a pretty penny, but it wasn't as if the couple couldn't afford it on account of Shield compensation, and would no doubt come in handy if they ever ended up with more children. Jasmine wasn't sure what it was about the home, but it inspired a new sense of longing in her chest every time she returned.

She'd seen it plenty of times over the years, of course, had stayed in the home over her winter and summer breaks in college. She'd been hesitant to attend university after waking up from cryo, after she and Rosemarie had seized the chance to become normal again. But, as it turned out, life was actually fairly dull when an evil organization wasn't forcing you to use your computer skills to hack major companies and corporations for information, and so Jasmine had decided she may as well make some attempt at assuming a normal life. When she'd woken up, she'd been little past physically seventeen; now, she was twenty two and in her final year of a computer technologies major. In fact, because she was so far ahead with her credits, her winter break started in just a few weeks, at which time she would once again return to stay in Bucky and Sasha's home.

Perhaps it was just that she wanted something like this, a man to own a home and have a child with, to kiss when she was happy and have him hold her when she was lonely and crying because of the nightmares she faced. That had to be what it was. In fact, as Jasmine remained perched on a granite countertop, watching Bucky and Sasha clean dishes from the dinner together, it was pretty much confirmed.

"Bucky, can you put these glasses in the cupboard for me?" It was good that Sasha had asked for help, Jasmine decided; she was much too short to have reached the shelves in the cupboard designated for the glasses, and attempting to do so surely would have resulted in shattered glass on the floor.

That being said, Bucky knew exactly what he was doing when he paused and let his tone become teasing. "Aw, why? You can't reach it?" At her brother's teasing, Jasmine couldn't help a small smile. He'd always been that way when they were younger, joking and laughing. It was still nice to see that it wasn't a trait he'd lost after all he'd been through.

Jasmine could actually feel Sasha roll her eyes from across the kitchen, and the feeling was accompanied by her sister-in-law's playfully annoyed exhalation of air. "James Barnes, you know _damn_ well-"

"Swear jar!" Bucky called, taking the glasses from Sasha's hands and placing them where they belonged. "That's gotta be at _least_ three dollars."

"No no no," Sasha protested, "it only counts if Marcie's in the room, and she's upstairs reading with Rosemarie." She turned around and began pleading her case to Jasmine. "Jazzy, back me up here!"

"I think she's right, James," Jasmine chuckled, gently kicking her heels against the wooden cupboard beneath the counter she sat on.

Before Bucky could argue his point, Marcelline returned to the kitchen with Rosemarie in tow. "Mommy, we couldn't find my book. It wasn't where you always leave it."

Sasha reached to turn the sink faucet off as Rosemarie came over to hop up next to Jasmine on the counter. "Did I hear something about a swear jar?" Rosie whispered, quirking an eyebrow up.

"James is being an ass," Jazzy whispered back, rolling her eyes and smiling.

Kneeling down to her daughter's height, Sasha pulled Marcie forward and placed a kiss to her forehead. "That's okay, Marce, Daddy and I need to talk to Rosie anyway."

Marcelline's head tilted off to the side, causing her curls to be displaced from her shoulders. It was hard to tell who she looked more like, in Jazzy's opinion. Her eyes were Bucky's, but as far as her skin, hair, and build went, she was all Sasha. Her lips were full, like her mother's, and they had the same nose, but Marcelline's facial expressions were echoes of Bucky's own. "Oh!" the little girl exclaimed, hardly seeming put out at the news. "Well, can I ask Jazzy if she wants to play with me then?"

At this time, Bucky took a few steps until he ended up just behind Sasha. "Actually, sweetheart, we need to talk to both your Aunts about some grown up stuff."

Despite being given possibly the worst answer she could have received, Marcie simply shrugged, and said, "Okay Daddy. Can I go upstairs and play with my toys then?"

"As long as you get changed into your jammies and pick out some clothes for tomorrow first, okay? We'll all be up to say goodnight soon."

In one last attempt to be given a favorable answer, Marcie turned her eyes on both Jasmine and Rosemarie, and Jasmine already knew that the chances of her denying her niece whatever she wanted was very, very slim. "Are you gonna stay the night? Will you be here in the morning?"

Out of surprise, Jasmine's eyes met with her sister's, who seemed just as caught off guard, and then skittered over to meet those of her brother and her sister-in-law. "You're certainly welcome to," Sasha told the two of them, smiling kindly, just as she always did. "You know that."

It didn't take more than a minute of deliberation before Jasmine had arrived at an answer. "I, for one, don't really feel like going back out into the cold anyway. Rosie?"

A faint smile caught at Rosie's mouth. "We'll stay, Marcie."

"Yay!" And, having been given an answer which satisfied her, Marcelline bounced out of the kitchen, the light thumping of her feet against the steps of the staircase soon heard afterwards.

This left Jasmine with her siblings and sister-in-law, and she sort of wished she could be happier about that than she was. It wasn't that she wasn't _ecstatic_ to see Sasha and Bucky; actually, her visits to their home were her most favorite times of the year. Being back with Bucky, of course, was something she'd never dreamed of back in the hydra base, and even now that she'd been back with him for years, she _still_ couldn't believe it had happened. And, of course, Sasha was the sister-in-law from a dream come true. Kind, caring, willing to treat Jasmine and Rosemarie as though she'd known them all her life. So, yes, Jasmine was more than happy to be in their home, to spend time with them and all of that... but the news she and Rosemarie had to share with them almost made her sick. If she could spare them from the knowledge, she would have. But keeping the information from them could have meant life or death.

God knew that wasn't something any of them were willing to take chances with anymore.

"So, there's not really any point in beating around the bush," Rosemarie started, hopping off the counter and standing to her full height. That was something else Jasmine was kind of jealous of. Rosemarie's posture was a testament to how well trained she'd been in the hydra base, how large of a skill set she had come to possess. The abuse and the physical punishments weren't something to be jealous of; Jazzy knew that. But her sister had been armed with the means to protect herself and her family. All Jazzy had been given was the knowledge of computer hacking. "We've got some bad news."

"Oh, good, we can make it a party then," Sasha muttered, a rueful little smile on her mouth. "I've got some too."

"And we were all having such a nice time," Bucky sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the stove. "How worried do we all need to be?"

"It's Sophie," Jazzy let out. There wasn't any need to sugarcoat it, or to gloss over it, or anything like that. Bucky and Sasha needed to know what she and Rosie had seen, needed to understand that everything they'd all been afraid of for the past five years was coming to a head. "They're using Sophie for assassinations. Probably just to send a message, I'm sure, but it's definitely working."

Bucky's jaw went slack, and his skin paled. That wasn't easy to do these days, especially not after the hell he'd been put through since waking up in the modern age. He'd seen things, done things, had things done _to_ him. But when it came to Sophia, who had been the youngest and most innocent of all four siblings... well. What had happened to her had left a bad taste in all their mouths. Their baby sister was a killing machine.

"Who have they been making her kill?" Bucky asked, eyes somewhere far away. Beside him, Sasha took hold of his metal hand, which Bucky subconsciously squeezed before relaxing, if only slightly. Sasha would have the best chance at offering him comfort here. "How bad is it?"

This time, it was Rosie's turn to explain. "They're masking her, at least. Nobody has seen her face or knows who she is. But... they're having her kill some pretty high up government officials. People Hydra wouldn't want in power. Government's doing a lot to cover it all up, but Jazzy hacked them, and she found the reports. It's definitely Sophie."

"Is there... is there anything we can do for her?" Sasha asked, looking for all the world like inaction physically pained her. "Can we track her? Get her into a cell until we can figure her memories out?"

Rosie shook her head, regret plain on her face. "Hydra has been very good at keeping her assassinations to a string with zero pattern in it. We have no idea who she's going for next."

"Sounds about typical," Bucky muttered. Jasmine hated to give the news that brought down his good mood. She had only ever wanted to see him happy, ever since she was little and it had seemed so unfair that he had had to give up any dreams of his own to look after her and the other girls. Jazzy had promised silently that she would do what she could to keep him where he was, happy and with a family, even though her brother had no knowledge of it. But in this case... there wasn't much for Jazzy to do. Turning to Sasha, Bucky said, "What about you? You said you had bad news."

"I'm... not sure you'll want to hear it right now," Sasha confessed, a bitten lip indicating worry.

"Baby doll, you know it's best to kick me when I'm down. I can take it. We can take it."

And, when Sasha slowly shifted her gaze up to Bucky's face from the floor, and Jazzy saw the silver line of tears brimming in Sasha's eyes, Jazzy understood that the situation was about to get a whole lot worse than she and Rosemarie had originally thought it would. "I'm not sure _I_ can," she whispered.

There was something about seeing Sasha cry. It wasn't a rare occurrence; actually, Sasha was probably the one who cried the most out of all of them. She'd been born an emotional person, really, and so Jazzy saw her cry often, but witnessing it was a _completely_ different story. When Sasha cried, Jazzy understood what provoked Bucky's protective instinct. When Sasha cried, Jazzy wanted to do whatever she could to right whatever wrong had been committed.  
But, in this instance, she was getting the feeling that there wasn't a whole lot to be done.

"What's wrong?" Bucky asked gently, hurriedly gathering Sasha in his arms and pulling her close to his chest. No one could stand to see Sasha upset less than Bucky. Well, except for maybe Marcie. She hated it when her mother cried, and did her best to cheer her up in the few, childlike ways she knew how. "Sasha, what is it? It's okay, Sasha. Tell me what's wrong."

There were a few moments of silence, interrupted every so often by Sasha sniffling, but eventually she pulled her face away from Bucky's chest and met the eyes of Jazzy and Rosie before locking onto her husband's. "Matt... Matt called me. Earlier today, at the tower."

Understanding dawned on Bucky's face. Not exactly what Jazzy had been expecting, but she'd take that over, say, depression or despair. "That's what you were so upset about," he realized.

"What did Matt say, Sasha?" Rosie asked, never one to stray from important details.

"He gave me a timer," Sasha responded, once again looking to the floor for comfort. "Three weeks. The government finally got what they needed, I guess, and they're officially starting the motions for trial in around three weeks."

The news left a bad taste in Jazzy's mouth, and prompted Rosie to press her lips into a thin line. Of course they'd known this would happen eventually, and honestly, the fact that the government had taken a little upwards of five years to finally get around to it had honestly shocked not only the family, but all of their Avenger friends too. So, yes, they'd all known that it would happen eventually, but the timing could not have been worse.

A lot of shit was going to go down for all of them in the extremely near future. How they'd deal with it, Jazzy wasn't too sure, but that didn't matter. None of them exactly had a choice.

"Sasha," Rosie tried, looking as though she was willing Sasha to stop crying. Rosemarie hated seeing her cry the most, Jazzy thought, save for Bucky. There were things she'd felt guilty for that had happened, mostly the torture, and so she'd done all she could to make it up to her sister-in-law, despite the fact that Sasha had forgiven her years ago. "We'll get through it. The jury will be on our side."

"You don't need to worry about it right now," Bucky murmured, taking both Sasha's hands into his own. "I promise you, everything will work out. We'll make it work."

From what Jazzy could see, Sasha was too tired to fight back, too distressed to point out what they were all thinking. For Bucky's sake, she let herself be pulled once again to her husband's chest, but the expression on her face remained the same. The truth was, there was no way of knowing if they'd be able to get through the impending trial or not. Bucky couldn't promise Sasha anything; they all knew that.

Something was coming for the members of the Barnes family. Jazzy could feel it in her bones. No matter how hopeful or optimistic they all were, there would be no getting around the inevitable. Jazzy only hoped that they could make it through without falling apart on one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been... forever and I'm so sorry but I promise I will do my best to make regular updates! Hang in there, and thanks for sticking with it and being patient!


	3. Wanna Take a Chance?

Marcie wasn't really sure who Matt was or why her Mommy was crying, but she did know that she wanted to run and hug her to stop her from crying. But, she couldn't do that, because her Mommy and Daddy would've known she had been spying, and that was something she wasn't supposed to do. Maybe she'd ask for the safety circle tomorrow morning, just so she could ask what was wrong with her Mommy. That way she wouldn't get in trouble, and she could help her Mommy feel better.

She didn't spy on her parents very often; mostly it made her feel bad, and her Daddy was usually good at catching her in the act. Tonight, though, he was distracted, so Marcie could get away with it. The fact that she could hear what was going on from all the way down the hall helped her case, she guessed; she also was pretty sure that other little girls wouldn't have been able to hear voices so clearly from where she stood. That didn't really bother Marcie, though. It helped her when she needed to be nosy.

A shuffling noise happened, and all the voices and sniffling had stopped. Marcie waited until she heard footsteps heading towards the swinging door of the kitchen before rounding the corner at the end of the hall and booking it for the staircase. She was careful to keep her steps on the stairs light and silent, so that she wouldn't get caught. Then, once she got up the last step, she dashed for her room, all but throwing herself into a pile of stuffed animals she'd placed on the floor earlier.

About thirty seconds after she'd made it back to her room, the adults' footsteps sounded on the stairs, loud and solid and making no attempt to be quiet. Marcie knew that her Daddy and Aunt Rosie could be super quiet if they wanted to be, almost as if they were ghosts. She'd learned to be quiet by watching the two of them, actually. Regardless, Marcie smiled to herself that she'd managed to be so quiet compared to the sound of them walking up the stairs now.

When they all walked into her room, her Daddy the first one inside, Marcie made it look as if she was deep in the middle of pretending that her panda bear was Uncle Steve and that her plush dinosaur was a bad guy. All they'd see was Marcie making the panda punch the dinosaur; they wouldn't have had any clue that she'd been downstairs listening to their conversation. Marcie had been super careful about following her Daddy's instructions about pajamas and her teeth before spying. That way they wouldn't be able to question her.

"Marce," her Daddy started, kneeling down where she played. "Did you pick out your clothes?"

"I did," she answered, pointing a finger back at the sparkly purple tutu resting on her bed. Marcie really liked tutus, and that she could get them in any color she wanted. It also made her happy that she got to pick her own clothes every day. Sometimes her friends from school would tell her about how their parents made them wear 'matching clothes', whatever that meant. The only items Marcie was required to have on were a jacket and tights if it was too cold outside. "Tomorrow feels like a purple day."

Just behind her Daddy, Marcie's Mommy laughed quietly to herself. "Good choice. Purple's rad as-"

Aunt Jazzy coughed in what vaguely sounded like the words "swear jar", at which her Mommy laughed, but didn't finish her sentence. Instead, she asked, "Are you ready for bed Marcie?"

At this, Marcie shook her head. Actually, she was pretty tired, but she needed to make her Mommy laugh. It would make her feel better, and make her not want to cry again. "Nope! I have superpowers like Daddy and Uncle Steve and Aunt Wanda, and mine is that I never need to sleep!"

It had the desired effect; her Mommy laughed, and so did the other three grown ups. Aunt Rosie chuckled, "I could use that super power." Aunt Jazzy laughed with her. Marcie liked both her aunts, and thought they looked very much like her daddy. Jazzy a little less, because she had yellow hair, but her face still looked the same.

"Definitely the kind of power that would come in handy for cramming for finals," Aunt Jazzy muttered, a light and amused look settling on to her face.  
Marcie's Mommy snorted. "What, like you don't know everything about computers already?"

The three girl grown ups continued to laugh and talk amongst themselves, having gotten distracted from why they'd initially come up in the first place. That was just fine with Marcie; she liked to watch them talk, liked seeing the amused looks on their faces and the absence of worry. If they weren't concentrating on anything too much, their faces had the same kind of peace they did when they were sleeping, only with a smile instead of a blank face. It was important to Marcie that they be able to smile. She knew there had been some days, a long time before she was born, where they hadn't been able to smile at all.

Even though the girl grown ups had gotten distracted, her Daddy had not. He stepped forward quietly, and scooped Marcie up into his arms. She squealed, and squirmed a little, but she liked it. When he settled her against his chest and smiled down at her, she darted her face forward and pressed a big kiss to his cheek. Marcie didn't get why people were afraid of her daddy, or why there were people who wanted to take him away, as her parents had been discussing while she'd eavesdropped. Her Daddy was the nicest person in the whole wide world that she knew, except for maybe Uncle Clint, and he was the favorite parent at the PTA meetings he went to for Marcie's school. All the moms always wanted to talk to him, always smiled and laughed and batted their eyes at them. Flirting, she thought she'd heard her Mommy call it. Her Daddy would never hurt anyone.

"Hey, Marcie May," her Daddy chuckled. She didn't know why he called her that; her middle name was Marie, not May. "Are you ready for sleepy time?"

Yawning, Marcie nodded, leaning her head against her Daddy's shoulder. It was good for laying on, especially on nights when she'd had a nightmare and wandered over to her parents' room, asking to join them instead of sleeping by herself. "Yeah. I think I'm gonna have a good dream tonight."

"Oh, I bet," he agreed, beginning to carry her over to her bed. Once there, he sat down on the light purple covers, Marcie cradled in his lap. "And you brushed your teeth, right?"

"Yes." For a second she was quiet, just leaning against her Daddy's chest and letting him rub circles on her back. Then, after a little while, because she just really couldn't help it, she whispered,

"Daddy?"

"Mmm?"

"You're not gonna go away... are you?"

At this, her Daddy pulled back, looking down at her with shock on his face. Marcie had just messed up, she knew, and was now bound to get into so much trouble for eavesdropping. She was bracing herself for her Daddy to turn to her Mommy, to interrupt her conversation with her aunts and tell her that they'd need to figure out a consequence, but he never did. Instead, Marcie's Daddy gave her a concerned gaze, and let a hand run through her hair. "Why would you think that, Marcie?"

Figuring that she may as well just admit it, Marcie, still whispering, said, "I heard you and Mommy talking downstairs. Who is Matt? She said... she said you were in trouble. I don't want you to leave Daddy. I'll miss you a whole lot."

Her Daddy wasn't mad like she thought he'd be. Really, he looked more... sad, she guessed. Like he wished he could have made it so she didn't have to worry over anything she'd just asked him about. "Oh, baby, no," he whispered back. Mommy and Aunt Rosie and Jazzy were still talking; they didn't need to worry over Marcie the way her Daddy was, something he seemed to understand. "I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'll be right here for you, always. Do you understand?"

Marcie nodded, and realized she was trying not to cry. "Do you promise?"

Her Daddy nodded, ruffling her hair and pressing his forehead to hers. "Yes, baby girl. I promise." Then, louder, to get the girls' attention, he said, "Okay, you. Time for sleepy time. Get under your covers, okay?" With this, he stood from her bed, and pulled the blankets back so she could crawl beneath them. "Say goodnight to everyone, Marcie."

"Good night," she called, the women coming forward one at a time. First her Aunt Jazzy, who ruffled her hair and kissed her head, then Aunt Rosie, who patted her cheek and promised to play with her the next day, and finally her Mommy. "I love you, Mommy. You're the prettiest lady in the whole world." And, Marcie wasn't lying, either. Her Mommy was beautiful; she loved when people told her she looked just like her.

"I love you too, Marce," her Mommy said, wrapping Marcie into a big hug. It wasn't as big as the ones Uncle Steve usually gave her, but she liked how warm her Mommy was. "Sweet dreams, okay?"

Marcie nodded, and watched as all the adults walked out of her room, her Daddy leaving her door open a little crack so that the light from the hallway came in. Marcie wasn't afraid of the dark or anything; it was just that she liked to know if someone was going to come in. She listened as they all shuffled back down the stairs, their voices growing fainter as they went. She could hear their footsteps in the kitchen downstairs, could hear them quietly go back to chatting and laughing.

Even though her Daddy had said he wouldn't go anywhere any time soon, Marcie wasn't sure that was entirely within his control. And so, as she began to drift off to sleep, she was resolved to figure out how to do something about it.

\--

"I want a divorce," Sasha muttered under her breath, rolling onto her right side so that she was faced away from her husband.

Bucky only laughed, the deep, body racking kind that only came out when he was genuinely and completely amused. He didn't bother trying to roll her back over; there was no point, not now. So instead, he scooted closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder and draping his metal arm over her waist, locking her into his embrace. Placing a slow kiss at the indentation where her neck met her shoulder, Bucky let his lips ghost up to her ear as he chuckled and whispered, "No, you don't."

"I do," she shot back, remaining firm against Bucky's advances. Damn; she normally wasn't so resolved. "I want a divorce, and I get Marcie on weekdays. You can have her for Thanksgiving and Fourth of July."

"It was a _joke_ , Sashen'ka," Bucky laughed. He was attempting to remain quiet, but that was proving to be so _difficult_. He loved seeing Sasha riled up like she was, had always loved it. "You know I didn't mean it."

"It wasn't _funny_ , Bucky," Sasha snapped, suddenly rolling back over to look him in the face. Her hair was wild, frizzed out partly from being left down instead of tied up and partly due to their earlier actions in the bed. They'd been laying together for some time afterwards, had been laughing at first. Then, Sasha's mind had turned to heavier thoughts, mainly to do with Bucky's impending court trial. He didn't like dwelling on that, and knew it couldn't have been good for Sasha, and so had tried to lighten the mood by making a joke about how if he was incarcerated, he'd just have to become the king of contraband to survive. It was a stupid joke, and in hindsight it was also one he probably shouldn't have made, but he hadn't been able to help it. "You can't talk about the future like that. I don't know how I'd even..."

"Hey," he interrupted her, offering only his kindest face and most soothing tone of voice, "I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I won't let them take me from you. I promised you forever, and that's what I plan on giving you." Leaning forward to press a kiss to her mouth, he cupped her cheek and attempted to show her he meant what he said. "A long..." He trailed off, kissing her again, a little deeper and more intensely than the last. "Happy marriage..." Another kiss, this time coaxing her lips apart with his tongue. It wouldn't make her less upset by any means, but it would at least soften her anxiety for the time being. "With plenty of time to have more children. I'm thinking five more, three girls and two boys."

Sasha laughed and kissed him back, matching him for every action and touch. A moment later, she sighed. "I just... I can't do it without you, Buck. You don't work, really, so you have time to stay home with Marcie when she's sick or when I have weekend classes to teach, and you take her to ballet practice and do her hair and go to all the PTA meetings, and if we didn't have you I know I wouldn't be able to do all those things for her, and I would just... god, I would miss you so much, you have _no_ idea."

"I have some idea," he mumbled, leaning his forehead against hers and letting his eyes fall shut. "We both lived through that, a long time ago. I don't like thinking about it."

"Neither do I," Sasha whispered. "Just... don't plan on going anywhere, okay?"

"I wouldn't dream of it, doll."

They laid there in silence for some time, just clinging to each other like it was the last time they'd have the chance. Bucky knew they'd need to get to sleep soon; tomorrow was Saturday, which meant ballet practice for Marcie and a trip with Sasha to the grocery store. At the same time, though, he didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to lose time with his wife, especially not if his time with her could potentially be running out. So, he kept talking, if only just to hear Sasha's voice a little longer.

"The others would help you, you know," he told her, stroking his hand down her bare back. She shivered involuntarily. "My sisters. Steve and Wanda, Clint and Nat. Tony, even, and Thor. He loves Marcie; they all do. They'd help you if you needed it. If I... if I had to go away. You know that."

For a moment, Sasha remained silent, seemingly contemplating. "I know that," she said eventually. "They're our family, of course they'd help me. But they can only do so much for me. I'm not married to them, I'm married to you."

At an attempt of making her laugh, Bucky responded to her statements with, "You're not married to any of them, meaning you couldn't sleep with any of them."

Sasha laughed, making Bucky's attempt a success. "Last I checked, you didn't need to be married to anyone to sleep with them. But, Clint is pretty much my brother, Sam is my brother, and Natasha's been with you before and she can't very well get with both the people in this marriage, so our eligible people for me to sleep with list is down to Steve, because Tony and Thor are taken."

"What about the twins? The twins definitely aren't taken."

"You know, Wanda would be _such_ a good girlfriend," Sasha mentioned, looking up to the ceiling in thought. "Pietro, though... he's a little too clingy for me."

"God, he would be so _heartbroken_ to hear you say that," Bucky laughed, shaking his head and drawing Sasha closer to his chest. "Kid's had a thing for you for years."

"I'm sure he's over it by now," Sasha giggled. He could hear the note of lethargy in her voice, knew that she'd fall unconscious soon. It was for the better, he supposed; she needed to get her rest anyway. "And he's not that petty."

"Maybe you're right," Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to his wife's forehead. "I love you, sweet girl."

"Love you too, jerk," Sasha mumbled. "G'night."

Bucky, a tiny smile on his face, murmured, "Sleep well." And after that, he began to let himself drift to sleep.

\--

He had a rifle slung across his back, pistols holstered at his hips and thighs, and knives strapped to his right arm and within his combat boots. There were explosives in his deep pockets, tools to be used for torture, and a mask and goggles to protect his face and conceal his identity. Every inch of him, anything which could be considered vulnerable, was covered and protected; no part of his body was left out to the open.

Excluding, of course, the whole of his left arm. Being completely composed of metal and lovingly polished to a bright and shining gleam, the limb was as much a symbol as it was a weapon. He could crush things with that arm, bend metal with it, withstand inhuman amounts of heat and still be able to function. And, with the bright red star emblazoned upon his shoulder, everyone informed enough would know exactly who it was that was ending their life moments before it actually ended.

" _Soldat_ ," a sharp voice prompted him, accompanied by a swift nudge to the rib cage. Ballsy; he very well could have ripped the arm off the man who had committed the offense, had he thought it worth making an example of him. Agents hardly touched him, and it was for good reason: he did not much like being touched. He knew he didn't have a say in how he was handled, of course, and had gotten used to roughness and violence after a short period, but sometimes... sometimes a hot sensation poked itself into his chest, and though he didn't know what it was, he still acted upon it.

Deciding to simply take the warning and forgo disfiguring the agent, he began moving forward, away from the weapons rack which had been dragged to his cryogenic chamber and towards the door. Of course, there was no exiting the room without taking in the sight of the other three chambers.

The dark haired girls, Autumn and Summer, were not in their chambers; they must have been put to use. It wasn't uncommon for Autumn, but Summer... something important must have been happening out in the world, some sort of war which required only the most graceful form of espionage. Had to be, if they were using Summer and himself at the same time.

The blonde one was still sleeping.

She looked... peaceful enough, he supposed, but closer attention to detail told him that whatever she was seeing in her sleep was not pleasant. The small v formed between her eyebrows told him as much. Spring looked small, really, and all too thin. He'd need to make sure she ate more, when she got out, make sure she was taken care of and comfortable and-

And he'd need to do that because the girl in that chamber was not Spring at all, but Jasmine. Little Jasmine, all knobby knees and long blonde hair, with a fear of the dark. Jazzy. His sister.

They had made her like him.

He couldn't let them keep her.

Lunging and easily knocking the head of his handler against the metal wall, the telltale _crack_ of death sounding from the man's skull, Bucky pushed himself toward Jazzy's cryogenic chamber. He didn't know how he'd get her out, only that he had to. Only knew that his sweet little sister couldn't be left to this life, this _horrible_ life of killing and terrorizing and never belonging to one's self. _Get Jazzy out_ , a voice in his head told him. _Get her out_. Reflexively, his left arm reared back before surging to slam against the chamber's glass door. He did it twice more before checking his progress.

The glass had not even spidered into cracks.

 _Get her out get her out get her out get her out_.

Bucky's heart was beginning to beat faster than was probably healthy, and he could feel the blood rushing to his face, the anger raking through him as he pulled back and prepared to strike the glass again, despite how useless the efforts seemed to be. He let his arm fly again and again, and once he saw that his efforts were fruitless, he ripped the rifle from his back and wasted no time in aiming it at the chamber, readying himself to shoot to break the glass.

Just as his finger pulled back the trigger, the chamber door opened, leaving his little sister completely vulnerable to the bullet which embedded itself into her forehead less than half a second later.

Bucky woke up, sweaty and out of breath, in the dark of his bedroom.  
It took a moment to orient himself; it always did, when the nightmares were vivid like that, when he could practically taste and touch and hear and feel everything as though the events were happening in present life. The dreams were like lucid dreams without the self awareness, and with only the worst aspects.

But it was fine now. Bucky was awake, aware, and calming down. Rolling over, he found Sasha still asleep, subconsciously beginning to slowly make her way to his side of the bed in search of his body heat. Good, then. That meant the dream hadn't gotten to the part where he started yelling, the part where he began to get physical. One of Bucky's worst fears was repeating the incident with Sasha that had happened nearly six years ago, when he'd struck her in his sleep. The bruises had been present for weeks, and though she had tried to downplay her pain, Bucky knew she'd been hurt and scared. He didn't blame her for that, of course; he only ever blamed himself.

Carefully reaching an arm forward, Bucky let it drape over Sasha's waist and carefully pulled himself toward her until she was pressed against his chest, her breath fanning out against the hollow of his throat. Even after all these years, she seemed so small to him, so very little and delicate and breakable; he only meant that in a physical sense. Because, even though Sasha was all those things, she also happened to be smart, resourceful, able to handle herself in most situations. It was good that way; it meant she got to be normal, or as normal as she _could_ be in a life married to him. She was not super, not an assassin or a soldier, had no skill which could be used to darken the bright, happy person she was the way his skills had been used to darken him. She'd never have to experience any of that, and Bucky thanked whatever higher power was listening that this was and would continue to be the case for his wife.

Not for the first time, he found himself wondering if perhaps the same thing could be said about Marcelline. She was smart for her age, already reading sentences and performing double digit additions and subtractions. Bucky also knew that there were certain abilities of hers that were advanced thanks to the genes he'd passed down to her, like her eyesight and hearing, both of which were enhanced. Her healing was normal - at least, it hadn't shown any evidence of being accelerated. She was probably too young to consider strength yet, but Marcie's hugs had always seemed tighter than was average for a five year old. What Bucky couldn't decide was whether he felt the same way about Marcie's potential for being exposed to 'super' traits as he did when it came to Sasha.

Thinking about Marcelline also brought up thoughts of what she'd asked him earlier that night. _You're not going to go away... are you?_ It had almost seemed like Bucky had failed his daughter, in that moment. He'd never wanted her to worry about his possible absence, hadn't wanted her to think that he'd ever leave her even if he couldn't help it. It would be necessary within the next few weeks for he and Sasha to sit down with Marcie and explain to her what was eventually going to take place, tell her about the fact that there were people who wanted Bucky to pay for some bad things that had happened before she was born, and maybe teach her what a trial was. Most people thought those were too heavy of topics for children to know about or to comprehend, but then, most people were never really in the situation where they had to explain them to their children.

Bucky laid there thinking about all of that for a long time, and began entertaining thoughts of getting just a few more hours of sleep when the light streaming in from beneath the shades on the window turned to murky grey; just as his eyes slipped closed, his phone buzzed.

Who the _hell_ was texting him this early in the morning?

Careful not to disturb Sasha, Bucky twisted back and reached for his phone, grabbing it off the nightstand. A single message was present on the lock screen.

_Are the kids still on for the playdate today?_

Lina. That woman was _insane_ for voluntarily waking up as early as she did. Actually, given the fact that it had just barely reached 5:00am, Bucky was willing to bet that she'd just finished her four mile run. She'd also probably thought it a good idea to text Bucky instead of Sasha, because she had known there was no way in _hell_ Sasha would be awake.

Angelina Rodriguez was Sasha and Bucky's closest friend of the parents who sent their kids to the same school Marcie went to, and was coincidentally the only parent willing to let Marcelline play with her children after finding out who Bucky was and used to be. Her daughter, Gloriana, was Marcelline's best friend, and Gloriana's twin brother, Rafael, had verbally proposed to Marcie when he found out that she liked to play video games, and didn't complain even when he made her play the 'boy games.' Angelina herself was a single parent, and, for some reason Bucky just couldn't get a handle on, _loved_ running. With the hours she worked and the attention she had to pay to both her children, the only free time Angelina had to go running was early in the morning. To each their own, Bucky supposed.

Quickly typing out a response, Bucky sent back: _yeah, I'll drop her off after ballet. You sure you aren't nocturnal?_

All Bucky got in response was _Fuck off_.

Chuckling quietly to himself, Bucky placed his phone back down, and wrapped his arms around Sasha, burying his face in her shoulder to block out the light and get back to sleep.

This time around, his dreams were far more pleasant.

\--

"Wanda," Pietro began, jarring her from her thoughts. She'd been staring off into space again, as happened when she burrowed too deep into her thoughts. Lately, she'd been a lot better about that, but... well, when ideas came to her, she got a little stuck in them. She almost didn't want to think any more on this one, because she knew as soon as she suggested it to the rest of the team it would be shot down, but still. Shouldn't she at least try? "What's in your head?"

Wanda looked up at her brother, taking in his appearance. He'd newly shortened and dyed his hair, the brown roots no longer showing near his scalp; it made him look a little younger than he was, though she'd never hear the end of it if she said that out loud, and she wasn't stupid enough to try getting away with it, either.

"Just... I had a thought," she murmured, propping an elbow on the arm rest of the chair she occupied to lean her ahead against her palm. "I think it could help Bucky."

Pietro walked around to kneel at the side of Wanda's chair. "Well, what is it?"

The thing was, she was afraid to even say it out loud. Once she vocalized it, the idea was sure to stick in her head until she suggested it to the others. But... maybe that was a good thing. Maybe if she was talked into it, it would help her demand that they at least try it, if only for the sake of that small, achingly sweet family.

Wanda took a deep breath, and looked outside the window; outside, the world was dark and quiet. "My magic is... it helps a little, I think, but it would help more if I knew how to use it to help others, and I don't know how to use it like that. It's not malicious, but my power isn't something I've ever really used for someone else's benefit. What would help Bucky is for someone who has a good handle on their magic to look at his mind, but the thing is... I've only ever met one person with magic similar to mine who was an expert in their power and knew exactly how to wield it. The others won't like it, I know, but there's only so much I can do for Bucky, and it's not working anymore. Not really."

Pietro's eyes narrowed slightly, and Wanda could see the wheels turning in his head when she looked back to him. "If there's someone who could help him better, why wouldn't we bring them here?"

"The others wouldn't like it," Wanda said simply.

Rolling his eyes, Pietro retorted, "I promise you that the team cares more about the Barnes family's happiness than they dislike this other person." Well, that was definitely debatable. Even if that were true, even if the team allowed Wanda to contact her person, there was still no guarantee Bucky would accept them. It was risky.

"Wanda," Pietro tried, fixing her with a gentle but insistent look. "This is bigger than us, okay? This is about Bucky and Sasha and Marcelline. It's bigger than you being embarrassed or afraid to make a bad suggestion. Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure there _are_ bad suggestions. If you think it will help, then we at least need to try. So... who is it?"

She sighed, and looked back to the window and the darkness beyond it. Pietro was right; it couldn't hurt to make a suggestion. In fact, at this point, it was the most helpful thing she could do for her friends and their happiness. The others would freak out at first, sure, but hopefully they'd come to see that it was for the best.

Involving _him_ would be for the best.

"Loki," Wanda sighed, finally looking back to her brother. "I think we should get Loki."


	4. Come Back to Me

"How are you, lovely?"

"About as good as you would expect, I'm sure," Sasha muttered, rolling out her ankles as she leaned down to pick up her water bottle. "Melody's definitely not going to be dancing any time soon which means her understudy is going to have to take over. Unfortunately for me, it doesn't seem like she ever actually thought she would have to step in." And really, that was infuriating. Sasha only asked one thing of her dancers, and it was that they always at least practice; as fate would have it, practice wasn't something that Melody's understudy, Kiara, seemed fond of. God only knew how she'd managed to land the understudy part in the first place. "But practice is over now and I really don't want to think about this stupid show for the rest of the weekend, so we're gonna stop talking about it. How are you?"

"I'm fine," Bucky responded after a moment's hesitation. "I'll be better once you're here. I've missed you today."

Something was bothering him, then. He hadn't said so outright, but a marriage to Bucky required developing particularly sensitive attention to the less than happy moods. Of course, he was with Lina currently, and most likely would not have wanted to talk about any of that in front of her. Sasha understood this; it wasn't the problem. What _was_ the problem was that something had upset him in the first place.

"You always miss me," Sasha chuckled, taking a swig of her water. The coolness felt nice against the inside of her throat.

"More than you could possibly know. _Ty zavershayesh' menya, lyubov' moya_."

He spoke Russian to her often over the years, more so when he was in a particularly affectionate or longing mood. Sasha never minded, never complained. She had heard him speak it enough times to have recognized the phrase 'my love', but for the life of her she could never remember all the rules and words of the language. Marcie seemed to be picking it up well enough, but all Sasha could recognize were the pet names he gifted her with, and they were numerous between English and Russian.

Before she could respond with anything, she heard a rapid string of speech somewhere beyond Bucky and knew instantly that it was Lina. Not only did her friend speak quickly always, but she had taken up the habit of speaking rapid Spanish whenever Bucky decided to devolve back into Russian. Bucky, who spoke fluent Spanish, laughed, and informed Sasha on what was going on.  
"Lina says we can be mushy in our free time." A pause as Lina kept speaking, and then, "She also says to hurry over so that you can taste the fucking _ridiculous_ margarita she made. Actually, there's so many different kinds of alcohol in that thing that I'm not sure it _counts_ as a margarita anymore."

"It's perfect," Lina said, her voice loud and clear through the line. She must've pulled Bucky's phone towards her so that she could speak directly to Sasha. Her strong accent, slightly slurred at the moment, was present as a bell. "And very big. The rest of it is for you if you get here fast enough, _chica_."

After the day she'd had, Sasha wasn't at all prepared to refuse the offer. "I'll be there in twenty minutes," she declared, tossing her water into her tote bag before swinging it over her shoulder. For a moment she debated changing out of her dance clothes, but then quickly decided against it. There was no reason to worry about her appearance; it was just Lina's house after all, and anyway her clothes had a normal enough appearance that no one would question her about it. The only reason she might've changed was that she was a little sweaty, but that wasn't great enough cause. Bucky, his fondness for physical affection ever apparent, was the only one who would notice, and it never deterred him from hugs or arms around waists. "Don't have too much fun without me."

"Well I'm here with Bucky, so I don't think there's any chance of that. Mr. 'I can't get drunk because my metabolism is too fast' or whatever the hell."

Sasha chuckled to herself and hung up the phone. She'd come to be so grateful for Lina the last few months. They'd only met at the beginning of the school year, when Marcie and the twins had all ended up in the same class and Lina had been the only mom there on drop off day not cringing at the sight of Bucky's metal arm; she, Lina, and Bucky had become fast friends and often brought the kids to one another's houses for play dates. Occasionally they'd even invite some of the others, like Sam or Steve. Gloriana and Rafael were always asking Marcie what it was like to have the Avengers as aunts and uncles, and Lina and Sam flirted each time they were in each other's company. Sasha always thought they'd be cute together, but so far had never managed to push one into asking the other out.

Still thinking about her friends and her family as she stepped outside, Sasha barely managed to stop herself from walking into the body that was standing immediately in front of the door to the studio where she taught. It took an impressively hasty sidestep, but she managed.

The girl standing there hadn't flinched, or even bothered to move an inch. This, understandably, sort of pissed her off, and just as Sasha was about to tell her off for standing in a stupid spot, she caught a good look at the girl's face and froze instantly.

She... no. That wasn't possible. Or, it was, Sasha guessed, but they wouldn't... _no_. Hydra was _not_ this stupid; they wouldn't... they _wouldn't_.

But there she stood, hair falling all the way to her hips despite the fact that it was bound in a ponytail, cold blue eyes piercing every inch of Sasha's skin.

She didn't look a day over eighteen.

Her appearance was wrong, somehow. It wasn't the head to toe black clothing she wore, and it wasn't the anticipating twitch in her hands, either. No, it would have to be the paleness of her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes, the hollow expression on her face. Despite all that, despite the cruel set of her mouth and the harsh clench of her jaw, she still looked beautiful. Distantly, Sasha remembered what it had been like to see Bucky for the first time after being brainwashed, how he'd looked like a merciless angel of death. What she saw now, in this girl, was an echo of that.

Sophia looked just like her brother.

Sasha couldn't move. She couldn't speak, couldn't tear her eyes away for even a second. The girl she was seeing right now was practically a ghost, and she knew in the back of her head that she should most likely be terrified. But, no; that would have to wait for a few more minutes. For right now, all she felt was awe.

What was she meant to do? Was she supposed to speak? Was Sophia free? Had she escaped just as Rosie and Jazzy had? Had Hydra sent her to kill Sasha? That last one, truthfully, wouldn't have come as a surprise.

Sophia moved, and Sasha flinched. It hadn't been a large movement, but it had been enough to call on Sasha's reflexes. Whether Sophia noticed or cared wasn't indicated; she simply stopped moving and went back to assessing Sasha again. She didn't smile, or smirk, or make a snide comment like Bucky had when he was in this state. All she did was wait, and after a few more minutes, though Sasha's shock still hadn't subsided, Sophia moved again. It was only a step, but it was enough to make Sasha's breath hitch in her throat.

"You took something from me," Sophia said quietly. Her voice sounded gravelly, like she hadn't spoken very much at all in the last few decades. Sasha was sure that assumption wasn't technically incorrect, because even though Bucky's emotionless persona had been a complete _jackass_ , Sophia's seemed... well, more ruthless; stoic. The Winter Soldier had always somewhat hesitated when it came to enacting violence against Sasha, and she imagined that had been because there was some crack in the stone wall keeping Bucky at bay, but Sophia had never known Sasha. She hadn't the capacity to care whether she died one way or another. "I want him back."

She had to mean Bucky, right? He would've been the only person in the world who Sophia would have referred to as an object. So, this _was_ a Hydra thing then.

Sasha's fucking week just kept getting better and better, apparently.

Taking a deep breath, Sasha prepared herself to speak. She didn't want to, and she was kind of terrified, but if Sophia was reporting back to Hydra officials, then she needed to make it clear that she was still resisting them. "You can't," Sasha forced out. Sasha wasn't sure she'd ever been afraid of someone who looked so delicate before, and for sure had never felt fear talking to a teenager; then again, she supposed there was a first for everything. "You can't have him. I won't let you take him from me again."

Something changed in Sophia's eyes. A certain glint appeared, one that was far more malicious than what had been there previously. Sasha's hands were shaking, and her heart was thundering in her chest. Her breathing was getting shaky. This happened sometimes, but not usually this early in the day. Her memories tended to come after her in the night, and those tended to hold visions of knives, a cold cell, and a near death experience. What Sasha saw in Sophia's face now... it was reminiscent of what Nova had looked like, when she'd revealed herself to be evil.

"Let me make myself clear," Sophia said. There was a sharp edge to her words which would have taken a lot of work to miss. "You'll give me back what you stole, or I'll take something from you. And it'll be more important to you than Winter ever was to me." With that, Sophia casually yet gracefully turned around and began walking away at a leisurely pace.

Sasha couldn't move again until she was out of sight, and then a little longer after that. Probably she was just in shock, and for a damn good reason, she would say. Her husband's mercenary little sister had just threatened her; there wasn't exactly a proper response for that by anyone's standards.

And what was Sasha to do, now she was standing by herself and had all but had a conversation with a ghost? Was she meant to continue on her way to Lina's house, to pretend that what had just happened never even took place until she made it home to where she could tell Bucky without worrying Marcie? Was she supposed to tell Bucky what had happened as soon as she saw him? Should she call Rosie and Jazzy and let them know first?

Sasha, not for the first time in a long time, didn't know what to do.

And so, if only to help her decide, she stood motionless, staring after a girl who wasn't there just a little bit longer.

\--

"This is _not_ what I told you to do," Pietro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. No one could ever make anything easy, could they? Everything in the world just had to work against him.

"You said that if I thought he could help then I should bring him here."

"That is _not!_ What I _said!_ "

His eyes fell on the dark haired, rather lanky man standing just an inch or two behind Wanda and Pietro knew immediately that he was going to catch a lot of shit about this from the other avengers once they found out that Loki was present in the tower, uninvited by Stark once again. Loki could have at least had the decency to appear awkward or embarrassed, if only for Pietro's own sake, but the man was very clearly unapologetic.

"How'd... how did you even contact him? Wouldn't you have needed Thor to do that?"

Wanda shook her head, her hair billowing about as she did so. Pietro loved his sister, truly, but this was... this was misguided at best. "Last time he was here he taught me how to put out a sort of message with my magic for him specifically. Just in case I ever wanted to contact him."

"I must admit, when I taught you that trick I'd hoped you would use it under very different circumstances," Loki murmured, a sly smirk on his face. Between that, the dark hair, and the pallor of his skin, he looked to Pietro like a mischievous imp more than anything; he supposed that happened when one was the god of mischief. "Nevertheless, I am always happy to help Lady Sasha."

So much trouble for this. God, Tony was probably going to kick them out of the tower or even off the team and Pietro wouldn't even be able to blame him. And explaining why Loki was here to people, to Sasha and Bucky themselves... Would they even want his help? Sure, Sasha had allowed Loki to help her five years ago, but she'd been desperate and not in her right mind, and the most he'd really done was out her pregnancy to Bucky, if Pietro remembered that correctly.

This was not a good situation, like, at all, but... well, if Loki could help then Pietro sincerely hoped the others accepted his presence. Because Wanda had been doing her best for the Barnes family, but even he was beginning to see her best just wasn't enough in this case. It wasn't her fault at all; it might just not have been within her power to alter Bucky's mind that deeply.

"Wanda," Pietro let out, looking back from the unsettlingly smug smile on Loki's face to his twin.

"Yes?" Wanda asked, a faint blush still on her cheeks from Loki's comment which she had pointedly not responded to.

Pietro sighed, then pointed at Loki. "You're telling the others about him; I want no part of that." Then, looking to Loki himself, he continued with, "Please just figure out how to help our friends."

Loki nodded, and the faint smile on his mouth was tremendously more sincere than the last. "I'll try my best."

\--

"God, you are _wasted_ ," Bucky chuckled quietly, carrying Sasha up the stairs to the second story of their home. She'd shown up at Lina's house hours ago, a bit quiet and shaken, but Bucky assumed that it was just due to the stress of her dancers. They were good for the most part, from what he understood, but a few of them just seemed unwilling to cooperate with her or give her their best work. Every now and then it would get to her a little more than normal, and today had seemed to be one of those days. She'd come over to Lina's house after work and had downed that Frankenstein margarita Lina had made, and since then Bucky had been looking after two children instead of one.

Mercifully, Marcelline had requested to stay the night with Gloriana and Rafael, so Bucky was only left to get _one_ cranky girl inside the house. Luckily, he had super strength, so he didn't use convincing so much as brute force. It had been as simple as picking Sasha up and carrying her inside.

"Am not," she insisted, hiding her head in his chest. After a few seconds, she giggled. "You smell _so_ good." She craned her neck slowly, almost as if she were trying to be sneaky about it, and pressed a kiss to the base of his throat. With how drunk Sasha was, it was more like she was just bumping her head against his neck, but he'd been with her long enough to know what she was _trying_ to do.

"Don't start with that, doll, you know the rules," Bucky laughed, carefully bending down so he could twist the doorknob to their bedroom. One of drunk Sasha's habits was to compliment or 'seduce' Bucky; he wasn't sure what it was about being drunk that got her in the mood so much, but he was always adamant that she be nothing but completely sober when they slept together. She was his wife, sure, but he never wanted her to feel that she was being taken advantage of.

"Oh come _on_ ," Sasha whined, grabbing onto his shirt when he tried to place her down on the bed.

"Doll, you know I-- you have to let go of me so I can go get you pajamas-- you know I won't do things with you when you're-- really Sasha, I do need to get you your pajamas--"

"Or I could just sleep _naked_."

"... Somehow I feel like that would be _really_ counterproductive."

At that point she did let go of him, but it was only to roll onto her side and pout. "You're no fun," she muttered, jutting her lip out the tiniest bit. That didn't last for more than a few seconds though, because just after that she peeked up at him and said, "Bucky, my tummy feels _funny_."

He laughed a little, walking to their closet and grabbing an old shirt of his for her to sleep in. "I'm sure it does, lovely. Let's get you into something more comfortable and I'll go and get you a glass of water, okay? That's probably what you need right now."

Not needing any further encouragement, Sasha held her arms up above her head and waited for Bucky to pull the long sleeved shirt she wore over her head, then kicked her leggings off herself. Bucky couldn't help a chuckle at the concentration on her face; Sasha just looked so young sometimes, and yet so very old at the same time. He waited for her to pull her sports bra off as well, quickly offering her his shirt once she was done and noting the faded scars on her stomach as she did so. They were feather light now, but still easy to see, and the sight of them momentarily sent him back in time not only when she'd received them, but also when she'd begun to learn that they didn't mar her.  
He'd hated himself after the attack which had led to those scars, his past coming up and marking the one thing he'd truly loved at the time. Bucky had debated... well, some pretty dark things that night. Self inflicted punishment, he supposed, and only in the darkest part of his mind when he'd been wondering whether she'd wake up after the trauma. Thank god she had, but he'd been ready to do _something_ , and it was almost telling that he still wasn't sure what that something had been.

But she _had_ woken up, and though his guilt wasn't something that had ever really faded, he made up for it by allowing his love for Sasha to grow unchecked.

After clearing his head and seeing to it that Sasha was comfortable and had taken a few sips from a glass of water, Bucky turned off the lights in their room and climbed into bed with his wife, wrapping his arms around her and holding her closely. Drunk or not, Sasha was generally a clingy sleeper, and tonight seemed to be no exception. To be honest, this contact was something Bucky enjoyed; it was sweet and innocent always, and the fact that he had someone to hold him while he slept eased him. It made nights easier, and nightmares a little less frequent.

"Bucky?" Sasha whispered, words weighed down with sleep. She'd crash soon, he knew; alcohol made her sleep like a rock, and though drinking wasn't something she did too often, it was something she'd done enough for him to memorize her habits.

"Yes, love?" he asked, tracing lazy patterns over her shoulder. She shivered a little, though he doubted it was because she was cold.

"I... I saw a ghost today." That was unexpected, to say the least. "She looked just like you."

Okay, so maybe Sasha had been just a bit more drunk than he'd originally assumed. "Do you mean Rosie? Did she stop by the studio or something?"

Sasha shook her head against his chest, burrowing her face into him so that her next words came out just a tad muffled. "It wasn't Rosie, but she looked like her too. She was young and pale, and she looked so sad. She said she wanted you back."

There was a metallic taste in the back of Bucky's mouth, one which wasn't easily swallowed down. Sasha had never spoken about anything like this while drunk before, and the amount of hesitance in her voice was enough to make him believe she was talking about a real event. But if that was the case and what she was saying was true, why hadn't she said anything about this earlier?

"She also said that if I didn't give you back, she'd take something important to me." Sasha sighed sadly. "Let me tell you, she wasn't a very nice ghost."

Though his mouth was running dry, though he wanted so desperately to throw many questions at her, Bucky knew Sasha was in no position to be interrogated. With how intoxicated she was and how quickly she was fading into sleep now, he knew he wouldn't be able to get much out of her. He wanted to know so much, to understand the situation exactly as it had happened, but he knew this was going to have to wait until morning. His wife needed sleep and he needed to calm the racing of his heart.

And so, taking a deep breath and clutching onto Sasha as though she were his life raft, Bucky murmured, "Why don't we talk about this ghost more in the morning, okay? You need to sleep."

"Or we could do something more _fun_ ," Sasha sleepily giggled, lazily nipping at his exposed neck.

Despite himself, Bucky chuckled a little. He almost admired how very unperturbed his wife was, and sort of wished that his metabolism would allow him to get drunk again so that he could be just as carefree as Sasha was now. "Maybe tomorrow night, sweet girl."

Sasha was silent, and Bucky almost thought she'd fallen asleep when she patted his chest to get his attention and asked, "Are you mad at me?"

Well, no, not exactly. He was frustrated, but not mad. Not angry, and definitely not with her.

"It's okay if you are," Sasha continued, bringing her head away from his chest and scooting up to be at his eye level. "I thought I should tell you about her earlier, but she scared me. I didn't know how to say it."

Bucky breathed a moment, then carefully pushed forward and pressed his lips against Sasha's. It wasn't fire starting or anything like that, but it was deep; reassuring. They kissed for a moment, then two, and he stopped it just after she traced his mouth with her tongue. "I'm not mad at you, Sasha," Bucky whispered, forehead pressed against his wife's. "I just wish you would've told me about this earlier, is all. I'm not mad at you."

"You promise?" she murmured, cupping the back of his neck with her hand.  
He darted forward to press one last peck to her lips, then move back quickly to avoid getting carried away. "I promise. Get some sleep, okay?"

"Kay." Then, a second later, "I love you, James."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Bucky felt Sasha falling asleep after that and wanted to join her badly, but his mind was keeping him. Sophia was out there looking for him. No, not Sophia... somebody who looked like her. Sophia herself was trapped inside her own mind. Whoever told Sasha they wanted Bucky back, that was someone else entirely.

And he would know, considering he had his very own ghost inside his head, haunting him every waking moment and begging for him to let go of his control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is... severely delayed?? I'm so sorry for keeping you guys waiting for so long! I have unfortunately hit something of like, a rut when it comes to writing and working on my personal projects has been tough lately. I'm not necessarily happy with how this chapter turned out, but I'm hoping that by posting it and reading it through for the millionth time I'll spark some creativity. Bear with me! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! While I'm not crazy about how it's written, I am excited to further the plot.


	5. Blue Eyed Girl

She woke to her head pounding. Yawning hurt, inhaling deeply made it feel as though she had a second heartbeat in her head, and she'd had to close her eyes as soon as she'd opened them due to shock of light sensitivity.

Well. Sasha was definitely hung over.  
A groan of pain escaped as she rolled over, her face burying deeper into her pillow. God, what had Lina put in that drink?

"Oh, good, you're awake," a voice loudly chimed from somewhere beside her. Sasha's hands flew to her ears in a futile effort to block the noise.

" _Please_ don't talk so loud," she all but begged, still working up the courage to lift her face and open her eyes. With the ringing in her ears, that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

The smirk was slightly present in Bucky's voice when he responded with, "I'm only like, two levels above a whisper."

"Well, bring it down by one and a half. Why are you up so early?"

Sasha felt the bed shift beside her before the warmth of Bucky's body began radiating to hers. Though she was already plenty warm, it wasn't an unpleasant addition. "It's practically noon, lovely."

Huh. Lucky it was a Sunday, then. When was the last time Sasha had slept in this long anyway? It had to have been before Marcelline was born.

"Where's Marcie?" she asked, the previous thought about her daughter bringing her to mind.

"Still at Lina's," Bucky assured her. "I asked her to keep Marcie for a little while today." The sound of a glass being picked up from the night stand echoed in Sasha's ears. "Sit up and drink some water, okay? I have some Advil here for you too."

Gradually, Sasha found she was able to do as her husband told her. It took a minute to lift her head and blink the sensitivity from her eyes, but they eventually adjusted. Bucky's soft and amused face was blurry for a moment or two. "Why'd you ask Lina to keep Marcie?" Then, after another moment, "Wait, what about your session with Wanda? Shouldn't we be on our way to that?"

Bucky pushed the water glass into Sasha's hand, not before making sure she had popped the pills into her mouth. "Wanda canceled on me, she said... I don't know, something about something that could help me. Even if she hadn't canceled on me, I would've canceled on her.”

Sasha's head hurt, and she was pretty sure it wasn't just because of the hangover. "Why...?" she prompted.

With a sigh, Bucky eyed Sasha with a certain amount of hesitance. She was starting to feel strange about this whole thing. Really, she couldn't remember the last time Bucky was so frank with her. What had she done to upset him? Then, he explained, "You and I need to have a talk about a ghost."

"A... ghost?"

"Mhmm."

"Are we sure that I'm the one hungover here?" That one won a hard laugh from Bucky, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "What are you talking about? What ghost?"

A knot inside Sasha's stomach formed when Bucky told her. "I'm talking about Sophia. About how she came to see you and how she threatened you yesterday and you didn't tell me about it. Well, until you didn't have a filter, that is."

"Okay, hold on a second. Are you mad at me right now?"

"No, I'm not."

"Right, well you could have fooled me with all of that passive aggressive sighing you're doing."

A scoff escaped Bucky, and Sasha imagined that it wasn't exactly a good natured one either. "Okay, well, can you blame me? It took you being drunk and half way passed out for me to find out that my baby sister was in town; that she came after you. She could have _hurt_ you."

And Sasha knew that what he was saying was true, and she really did feel guilty about not saying anything, but... god, the tone he had just made her so angry. "Well, can you blame _me?_ She appeared out of _nowhere_ and started threatening to take away the thing I loved most if I didn't let her take you back. I can only assume that means Marcelline. So, yeah, for once I wanted to get drunk instead of talking about my problems. _Excuse_ me."

Bucky rolled his eyes and carded a hand through his hair in frustration. "Except this isn't just _your_ problem, Alexandrea, it's _ours_." The use of her full name made her flinch. "It's mine, it's yours, it's Rosie and Jazzy's; you are _not_ the only one effected by what happened between the two of you yesterday!"

Bucky had raised his voice, which had begun to make Sasha's head pound. The Advil hadn't quite kicked in yet and it wasn't the best idea, but like hell if she wasn't going to raise her voice back. "Then why was I the one she came after, huh? Why'd she corner me? Why not you, or Rosie, or Jazzy? Why is it _always_ me?"

"Because you're _vulnerable!_ " Bucky hissed, abruptly standing from the bed. Ouch. He'd never said anything like that to her before. "It's you, it's _always_ you, because you're the easiest target! She wouldn't have been able to sneak up on the rest of us; she picked you because you're the easiest to get alone and the least of a threat."

She wouldn't have admitted it at the time, but Sasha's feelings had actually been hurt a great deal just then. To essentially have been called useless by her own husband... well, it stung, to say the least. "That's not fair," Sasha tried, though the defiant effect was ruined by the tears pooling in her eyes. Damn her sensitivity; she always cried when she got angry. She attempted to bat at the tears inconspicuously, but of course that failed miserably. "It's not my fault, I'm not a spy or a mercenary or a hero or anything and you know that, you _know_ that I'm as prepared as any one normal person can be, but I can't help it if she comes after me." The word 'vulnerable' was still echoing in her head even after she'd finished her sentence.

It was upon seeing the tears in her eyes that Bucky's face had softened, which Sasha admittedly hated. "I know all of that," he told her, a hand resting on her shoulder gently. "I really do, I promise."

Sasha shook his hand off her shoulder, still swatting at the tears which were now trailing down her face. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me, James Barnes. I'm only crying because this hangover is giving me a bitch of a headache, okay?"

"I don't-" He began before cutting himself off and starting again. "I just... she came after you. I wasn't there to protect you, Sasha. If Sophie had wanted to she could've taken you, or even just killed you then and there."

"And so could any other random person on the street. I'm not sure if you know this, but killing and bad actions aren't exclusive to super soldiers."

Bucky sighed, sitting back down beside Sasha. Maybe it was a testament to how much he'd learned to control his anger considering the fact that he'd managed to reign in his emotions so quickly. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. But, can you understand why I was upset?"

Truthfully? "Yes. And I should've told you about Sophia as soon as I got to Lina's. I'm not a hundred percent sure why I didn't, I guess I was just... scared. But, still. I should've told you, and I didn't, and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"

A corner of Bucky's mouth hitched up. "Yeah, I think I can do that." Leaning down to press a kiss to Sasha's forehead, he gathered her into his arms and settled her against his chest, her head just tucked under his chin. "I could show you some things, you know. Just if you wanted."

"What kinds of things?" Sasha asked, looking up at the ceiling and relishing in the feeling of Bucky tracing a random pattern across her arm. She hated to fight with him, but she loved the affection they offered one another afterwards.

"Self defense moves. I know you took that class a few years back, but I mean, Sophia's a super soldier. She knows all the basics and she won't pull any of those on you."

At this, Sasha paused. Would it be smart to acquire more self defense skills? Of course; it could never hurt to learn more of those. However... "That's the thing, though; she didn't exactly threaten me. All she said was that if she didn't get you back, she'd take away something important to me. The only thing I can think that she could've meant is Marcie, and if that's the case the I'm not really sure how we can protect her."

Bucky's breath lightly fanned over Sasha's head as he exhaled in confusion. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Well, just that we're not with her all the time, you know? She has school and that's, what, like six hours a day? And then three days out of the week she goes directly to dance, other days Lina takes her home with the twins. There are so many opportunities and chances for Sophia to just take her, and there would be absolutely nothing that we could do to stop it." Tears were beginning to gather in Sasha's eyes again. She truly hated how emotional she was and how easily she cried, but the thought of losing her only daughter terrified her.

"Hey, hey," Bucky soothed, hugging her closer to him. "None of that, okay? Marcie's gonna be just fine. I won't let it get to that point."

Regretfully, Sasha felt the need to point out the obvious truth. "Bucky, you can't promise me that. I know you'll do what you can, but you don't know for sure."

Really, she hated that she'd had to say that; Bucky only ever wanted to protect his family. Sasha thought maybe it was because he was trying to make up for not being able to protect his sisters all those years ago, but she could never be certain. A complex man, her husband.

Bucky’s response was interrupted by Sasha’s ring tone sounding. Thankfully, her hangover headache was beginning to ebb; otherwise she might’ve found herself in a great deal of pain and annoyance one again. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, Sasha felt a cascade of relief wave over her body at the name she had seen on the caller ID. Honestly, she had half expected it to be Matt calling with more bad news, but that wasn’t the case this time.

“Who is it?” Bucky asked as Sasha unlocked her phone.

She held up a finger and waited to hear a greeting before responding with, “Hey, Wanda, you’re on speaker. What’s up?”  
Her friend’s accent was thicker than usual when she responded, giving Sasha the signal that Wanda was somewhat agitated. “I was wondering if you and Bucky wouldn’t mind coming to the tower today? Sooner than later, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Sasha looked at Bucky questioningly, who only furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head in confusion. “Uh, sorry,” Sasha replied, “didn’t you cancel his session today?”

If she was hearing correctly, there was a hint of embarrassment to be detected in Wanda’s voice. “Yeah, I did, and I hadn’t planned on calling either, but, uh... well, you’ll see when you get here. It’s better for me to tell you in person, and Tony’s insisting it gets done today. God only knows why, but, whatever. Would you mind coming?”

“It almost sounds like you want me to say no,” Sasha chuckled softly. “But, yeah, we’ll be there. Maybe within the next two hours; you wouldn’t believe the hangover I have.”

That comment won her a soft laugh. Well, at least she’d cheered Wanda up a bit. “Well, if you get here fast enough and it still hasn’t gone away, I probably have a cure for that.”

“Sold,” Sasha responded. “We’ll be there soon.” With that, she clicked off the line. At Bucky’s questioning gaze, she explained, “We have a date with Wanda. I guess Tony wanted us over for something important.”

“Probably announcing another one of his charity benefits,” Bucky scoffed. The thought of the last one the two of them attended made Sasha’s hangover worsen momentarily; she still couldn’t quite piece together everything that had happened that night, but she had vague memories of table top dancing with Wanda and trying (and failing) to convince an extremely sober Bucky to strip his clothes off publicly. Frankly, Sasha wasn’t much ashamed of either of those acts.

“Whatever it is, I told Wanda we’d be there in a couple hours.” Sasha moved to stand from the bed, but a sudden rush of dizziness washed over her and she swayed. Bucky’s arm reflexively shot out to steady her. Whoa, okay. She was never taking a mixed drink from Lina ever again. “I’m gonna go on and take a shower. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

She pressed a kiss to Bucky’s cheek and turned to move away, but Bucky caught her hand in his at the last moment, pulling her back to him. “That’s a good idea,” Bucky murmured, releasing her hand in favor of placing both of his over her hips and urging her onto the bed so she straddled his lap. “You reek of alcohol.”

“And yet...” Sasha trailed off, running her hands through her husband’s hair. She knew what he wanted here, but she wasn’t going to give it to him quite yet. Better to make him work for it, Sasha thought. Instead, she got just close enough to Bucky’s face that he could feel the heat of her mouth against his own - but that was all she gave him. His hands were guiding her hips back and forth and she was already vying for his touches and kisses all over her body; she knew she wasn’t going to last long, but she’d be damned if she didn’t at least make Bucky work for it.

His mouth slipped down and away from hers, finding the sweet spot on her neck and letting his teeth nip at her skin. God, she could melt into him and the way he touched her. Even after all these years Sasha’s husband had the power to make her giddy and stupid with only the most basic of actions. Just to give him a taste of his own medicine - well, and to feed the sharp giddiness she felt in her stomach - she rolled her hips, pushing flush against her husband. That action won her quite a moan, and also prompted Bucky to nip her neck harder. If he wasn’t careful, he would leave a mark, and Sasha wasn’t ready to relive her hickey trauma.

“Like I said,” Sasha gasped, trying to get a handle on her breathing. “I should really go and take that shower.”

“I can help with that,” Bucky rasped out, shifting his hips against hers even harder. Oh god, she was losing here. Badly. “Look at me,” he told her. Sasha blinked her eyes open and looked down at her husband; there was a want there that she was sure was reflected in her own. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Don’t I know it,” Sasha teased, kissing him once more. “If you’re gonna join me, then we better get going. We wouldn’t wanna keep Wanda waiting.”

Bucky smirked and stood, latching his hands onto Sasha’s hips to keep her upright as he carried her with him as he walked. “Trust me, I don’t think she’d mind.”

—

“Why exactly am _I_ the one that has to do this again?” Jazzy asked her sister over the phone as she made her way to the elevator which would take her up to the shared penthouse living room of Stark Tower. “You could have at least come with me.”

“Because the last time I was at the tower I ran into Steve and it got awkward, which is something I’m not really looking forward to repeating.” Typical Rosie. The girl could torture a person six ways to Sunday but she couldn’t deal with an uncomfortable interaction with the guy she liked. “It’ll take like twenty seconds, okay? Tony already has the the thing ready, so you only have to stay long enough to say hi and pick it up.”

“Okay, and what happens when I run into Steve and he asks why you won’t talk to him?”

“You’re a clever girl with a lot of ideas, I’m sure you can think of something.”

Jazzy rolled her eyes as the elevator dinged and opened its doors. She stepped out into the familiar open space of the penthouse, a space which was currently unusually quiet. “You’re gonna have to talk to him eventually, Rose. What happened between you two that was such an issue anyway?”

“Absolutely nothing at all,” Rosie responded. “We can talk about it later, okay?”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past three months.”

“Goodbye, Jazz. I’ll see you when I get home. I love you.”

Jazzy sighed. “I love you too, you ridiculous human being. I’ll pick up a pizza on my way home.”

“Put pineapple on my half?”

“That’s fucking disgusting, but sure. See you soon.” With that, she clicked off the line and placed her cellphone into her purse.

Without any other scenery to distract her, Jazzy let her gaze settle on the image of her reflection in the metal elevator doors. The knit white dress she’d chosen for today hadn’t been quite as warm a clothing choice as she should have opted for, even with the addition of the cute olive green utility jacket and black knee socks she’d paired with it. November was only a week or so away and she was pretty sure there was snow in the weather forecast, but she refused to let the cold impact her sense of style. Modern trends were too cute to pass up, and between the fashion and the makeup of the twenty first century, Jazzy felt like a downright beauty queen in all aspects.

Actually, that was something that got her a lot of confused attention at college. People assumed that because she enjoyed looking nice, she couldn’t be intelligent on a deeper level. Jazzy relished the astonished looks she got whenever she told some poor unsuspecting soul that she was majoring in computer science and engineering; the satisfaction that came with the dropped jaws was just too good a feeling to pass up. She supposed proving people wrong was something she also enjoyed.

“Hey there, Jarvis?” Jazzy called once the elevator doors dinged open.

“Welcome back, Miss Barnes. How may I assist you this afternoon?”

Jazzy spared a cursory glance at the window, noting that the sunlight was already beginning to fade. How she hadn’t noticed that on her way into the building she wasn’t sure, but she wrote it off. “I’m here to pick up some surveillance data and equipment from Tony. Can you tell me where he is right now?”

“Mr. Stark is currently in the training room with the Maximoff twins as well as Miss Maximoff’s guest. Shall I alert Mr. Stark to your arrival?”

“Yeah, but tell him not to rush out or anything. I’m on my way to him already.”

“Very well, Miss.”

Jazzy let her mind go into autopilot as she made her way down the familiar path to the sparring room. She’d spent plenty of time in there herself, learning skills Hydra had never bothered to teach her to defend herself and getting her ass kicked by Natasha and Clint and Steve, so finding it was second nature to her. She found herself wondering who it was that Wanda had visiting. Wanda had friends, of course, but Jazzy hadn’t realized she might have people over to the tower. It didn’t serve great for privacy of the Avengers.

Making her way through the halls and turning at the end of each corner, Jazzy finally made it to the narrow walkway leading to the metal steps which appeared just before the sliding door to the sparring room. As soon as her boot hit the first step the doors swiftly slid open, blowing her hair back with a gentle gust of air. Already she could hear voices carrying, one sounding more irate than the others.

“... you even think to ask permission? Like, at all? Even once?”

“For the eight hundredth time, Tony, it was a spur of the moment thing and I really didn’t think it was going to be that big of a deal. We’ve worked with him before.”

“Yeah, five years ago! And even then I didn’t want him here, because nobody just has a casual world domination phase and lets it go just like that.”

Jazzy didn’t much understand the conversation she was walking into, but she decided she wouldn’t pay much mind to that. When she’d moved into Stark Tower during her first year of freedom, she’d had to ask questions about almost everything that wasn’t technology related. Computers and hacking she could understand; current events, politics, and social relations? She hadn’t learned about any of that or worked on those skills passed the age of, like, twelve. Needless to say, that year had been difficult.

Rounding the entry corner and entering the full open space of the sparring area, Jazzy called out to all her friends, surveying the room to see which person she hadn’t met before. “Hey guys,” she greeted them all, offering a bright smile and a small, tentative wave. “What’s up?”

There was Tony, who glanced over to her and smiled back through his annoyance at whatever his current situation was. His hair was wild and his clothes were ragged, and Jazzy was willing to bet he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. Tony had bonded with Jazzy that first year by showing her his lab and allowing her to mess around with all the tech stuff she wanted. There, she had had the tools to create, invent, and practice, as well as do some surveillance of the streets, being careful to look out for any sign of Hydra or Sophia, neither of which she had found until very recently. 

Then there were the twins. Wanda, who was a close friend of Jazzy’s and looking pretty as she always did, let her face light up, and with the brightness of her expression came an inch or two of relief. From what Jazzy had heard, it sounded like Wanda was the one catching the shit from Tony. Beside her stood Pietro, who glanced at Jazzy, inclined his head, and didn’t do much beyond that. Pietro and her were friendly, of course, but the two of them had never bonded fully, and Pietro wasn’t near as flirty with Jazzy as he was with Sasha. That didn’t bother her a whole lot; she wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of attention if she got it, not really.

The fourth person present, a man she hadn’t ever seen or met before but who looked at least vaguely familiar, simply stared at her, eyes slightly widened. He wore a black suit, a shade so deep that light almost seemed to disappear into it. It made his skin, pale as Rosemarie’s was, contrast starkly. He was tall and thin, but Jazzy got the vibe that he could potentially hold his own in a fight, if he needed to. Jazzy waved at him directly this time, tilting her head to the side and waiting for him to wave back.

Instead, all she received in return was a blink of his eyes and a stare of confusion.

Huh. Weird.

“Baby Barnes,” Tony greeted, motioning for her to come and stand with him. Once she was within range, he placed an arm around her shoulders in a half hug before withdrawing and bringing her into the current conversation of the room. “Would you please tell Wanda that inviting Thor’s psycho murderer of a brother to stay here was a bad idea?”

“Don’t drag her into this,” Wanda protested, accent growing thicker than normal due to her annoyance. The other two men just stood there, eyes going back and forth as though watching a tennis match. “We’ve all done things we weren’t proud of. We’ve all killed people. It’s not fair to hold Loki to his past actions if you’re not willing to do it with anyone else on the team.”

Tony rolled his eyes, looking for all the world like Wanda had inflicted some type of deep, personal wound. “Considering the fact that no one on the team has killed maliciously, I think my point still stands.”

“That’s not true,” Jazzy stated, once again bringing all eyes back to her. The stranger - or, Loki, she guessed - kept giving her that confused, distant, wide eyed gaze. Tony’s matched his, but with less confusion and more astonishment. “Not if you count my brother and sister. Or, actually, I guess you could count all three of my siblings. Natasha as well, if I remember how she got the title of Black Widow correctly. Even Sasha’s killed, but I wouldn’t call that one malicious.” Pausing for a moment, Jazzy looked directly at Loki and stuck out her hand. “By the way, I’m Jasmine. You can call me Jazzy, though.”

He simply stared at her, then at her hand, but he didn’t do anything other than that. Jazzy dropped her arm after a few moments of awkward looks.

She wasn’t sure why she was defending this complete stranger at the risk of annoying Tony, but what Jazzy did know was that, for some reason, it felt important to do so. Maybe it was the look of confusion he was giving her; it wasn’t too far off from the one she used to get on her face when she was acclimating to her new life. Loki’s, though, held an element of shock to it that Jasmine knew hers had never possessed.

“She... has a point?” Pietro pointed out, amusement clear as day in his tone. He looked down at his sister, but Wanda was busy throwing a grateful look Jazzy’s way.

Tony rolled his eyes, but Jazzy could see that he wasn’t as severely annoyed as she would have expected him to be. That was something she knew was a privilege she solely possessed; it sounded shallow, but it paid to be the favorite. “Okay, I suppose I can see what you’re saying. Still doesn’t excuse the whole world domination thing.”

“I don’t know exactly what that means,” Jazzy stated, glancing quickly to Loki but then back to Tony, “and at this point I don’t think it would be productive of me to ask. I was wondering about some stuff that Rosie sent me to pick up, though? She said you had some tech and info for us.” Changing the subject was the safest option here; she just wished she knew how to be more smooth about it.

Nodding, Tony turned away, but not before shooting one last suspicious look in Loki’s direction. “Yeah, I do. Just come up to the lab with me and I’ll get you all set up. Your brother and Sasha are on their way, so I’m sure they’ll be here before you leave if you wanted to say hello.”

Well that was news to Jazzy. She’d been under the impression that Bucky’s weekend sessions were earlier on in the day. “What for?”

“For him,” Wanda answered, inclining her head to Loki, who remained staring. Jazzy would be impressed at how long he was keeping up the one expression if it weren’t so... strange? “He has magic like mine, but it’s a bit different. I was hoping he might be able to see where I’m going wrong with Bucky.”

Jazzy raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Well, thank you, Loki. Bucky needs all the help he can get.”

Still silence. Figured. She was beginning to become determined to get him to talk to her, but it didn’t look like that was happening any time soon.

That didn’t mean she was giving up, though.

“It was nice to meet you,” Jazzy told him, not untruthfully. Maybe next time - and she was going to make sure that there would be one - she’d even get a sentence or a smile out of him. Redirecting her gaze to the twins, she waved to the both of them. “I’ll see you guys later. Will you let me know when Bucky and Sasha show up?”

Wanda took her phone out of her jacket pocket and nodded. “I’ll text you soon as they get here.”

“Thanks.” With this, Jazzy turned and began following Tony out of the sparring room. She waited until they were all the way in the elevator, heading up to the lab level before leaning closer to Tony and asking, “So, what was his deal? That Loki guy.”

Tony shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Beats me, kid. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak less than a full Shakespearean soliloquy since the first time I met him. You must’ve made him nervous.”

Jazzy laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, please, I’m not scary. I’m just me.” In fact, the thought that Jazzy could have been the sole reason that Loki was... nervous, or afraid, or whatever he had been, was downright laughable. Out of all her siblings, she was decidedly the least intimidating.

“Well,” Tony teased, “evidently ‘just you’ was enough to get him to shut up. Which is actually a really useful skill, you should stick around as long as he’s here so I can take advantage of the peace and quiet.”

That couldn’t have been it. Why would Loki have cared about Jazzy? She hadn’t ever met him before, had never even heard of him until today. Aside from the fact that he was Thor’s brother, Jazzy had not a clue as to who he was. And that was saying something, considering Hydra had given her the job of making world politics and happenings her business. She had a mental database of almost every gifted superhero or super villain who had been caught on surveillance or who had been brought up in the news. Maybe if she asked Tony...

Or, she decided as the elevator doors opened to Tony’s lab, maybe she’d find out who Loki was by asking him herself.

—

Loki’s heartbeat had kicked into overdrive ever since she had walked into the room and hadn’t slowed its pace even after she’d left. He could hear Wanda at his side distantly, asking if he was okay, but he couldn’t find it in himself to respond. He’d just seen... gods, what _had_ he just seen? It shouldn’t have been... and the fact that she looked just the same, with no change at all?

It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t possible, and yet, she had been standing right in front of him. For the life of him, Loki had never thought he would see Sigyn again.  
Was this a joke someone was playing on him? Could it be some cruel, demented attempt at humor from the universe? That’s what it had felt like when she had extended her hand and told him her name. He’d wanted to take her hand, to hold it, squeeze it, anything to verify that Sigyn was there in front of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What if he touched her and she disappeared?

That one, at least, didn’t make sense. He’d watched Tony touch her with his own eyes, and she hadn’t faded away in a glimmer of magic then. Damn it all to hell, he should’ve taken her into his arms and squeezed her as hard as he could.  
Sigyn was here, on Midgard, alive and well. She had remained youthful over the years and she’d changed her name — she wouldn’t have remembered her Asgardian identity, of course. Odin had made sure of that. But by the gods...

He’d begun to walk towards the door without even being conscious of it. All he knew was that he needed to see her again, just to make sure he wasn’t completely out of his mind.

A hand on his arm stopped him. It was Wanda, trying to snap him out of it. “Loki, hey. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

He may as well try his luck, right? “Yes, I’m... quite alright. That girl that was just in here. Do you know her?”

Pietro interrupted, stating plainly, “She did tell you her name was Jazzy.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Loki hissed. “And even if I were, that wasn’t what I asked.”  
Wanda sighed, turning to her brother with a serious look on her face. “Why don’t you go on and wait for Bucky and Sasha to get here in the living room, okay? You can bring them in here once they show up.”

Pietro looked down right offended that Wanda had even suggest he leave the room. “What, so you and your boyfriend can-?”

“ _Pietro_ ,” Wanda snapped. A light pink began to tinge her face, one which Loki wasn’t unfamiliar with. He liked teasing Wanda, and he had ever since that first time he’d met her. This time, however, it appeared her blush wasn’t coming from quite as good natured of a place. “Just go for a few minutes, okay? _Please_.”

Muttering a few words under his breath, Pietro rushed passed in a gust of wind and disappeared entirely. Loki had never spoken much to Pietro directly, but he wasn’t all that surprised at the disdain Wanda’s brother held for him. It was typical of anyone from Midgard, as had been proven time and time again by the likes of Tony. The others on the team, they weren’t purposely rude all the time, but no one trusted him much. Loki couldn’t completely say that that distrust was undeserved.

“I’m sorry about him,” Wanda sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and raisin her eyes up to the ceiling. “He is so... ridiculous and rude, and-“

Loki stopped her by shaking his head. “You don’t have to apologize for your brother, Wanda. I have one too, I know what it’s like.” On the subject of Thor, did he know that Sigyn was here? Had he all this time? Surely he would’ve told Loki, if he had. “Now, about... Jasmine, did she say her name was?”

Wanda’s eyes found their way back to Loki’s face with a warm and friendly greeting. They were very nice eyes, blue and clear and wide. Up until he’d met Sigyn today, they’d been the friendliest pair of eyes he’d know for a long time. “She likes to be called Jazzy. She’s one of Bucky’s little sisters.”

Well that was... unexpected.

“Forgive me,” Loki responded, brow creasing in confusion. “I thought that all of James’s sisters would have died of old age?”

“Yeah, it’s... complicated. It might be better if you asked her yourself, or maybe even Bucky. There’s a lot of stuff that went down and it’s not really my place to say.” Dear gods, even the mere thought of speaking to Sigyn — or Jazzy, whichever was technically correct — made his stomach churn and his throat tighten. Loki’s couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so utterly affected by another person’s presence. Had it always felt so much like his fight or flight response was ready to be activated at any moment? “Was there something wrong? You wouldn’t talk to her. Do you know her from somewhere?”

That was the thing, Loki wanted to say. He wasn’t at all sure.

“Ah, no,” he answered, turning his gaze to a suddenly very interesting divet in the wall. “Nothing like that. But, she does... look like someone I used to know.

It was just a bit disarming, truth be told.”  
‘Disarming’ didn’t even begin to cover it, considering the fact that, to some extent, the love of his whole existence who he thought was lost to him forever had miraculously appeared to him the same day he’d traveled back to Midgard. And, if he brought this to her attention, if he asked her if she knew or remembered him, what would she say? Would she think him mad? If this was Sigyn, if it was truly Sigyn, would her memory loss be strong enough that she wouldn’t remember life on Asgard at all? She’d taken one look at Loki and there hadn’t been even the slightest touch of recognition in her eyes. That, perhaps, was the worst thing about all of this; of course he knew she wouldn’t remember him, of course he knew her mind had been wiped clean.

But still... a warmth in his bones, one he had not felt present for years on end, was finally there once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn y’all, life really catches up with you when you least expect it to!! I’m sorry I’m the worst at updating, but I’ve found a new inspiration for this story and I’ve been writing nonstop for the last few weeks. You can expect a lot more updates to this story and maybe a few unrelated side fics and drabbles. Ragnarok gave me quite a bit to think about in terms of characters. Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave a comment letting me know how you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this sequel was a long time coming! I'm so sorry it took me forever, but it's finslly here! I'll admit this was not the best opening, but now that we've gotten through the pain of starting, I should be just fine with taking this story exactly where I want to. Let me know how you like it!


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